


The King and his Warlock: An Unexpected Journey

by mollrach13



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bromance, Excalibur, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Merlin, Memory Loss, Post-Canon, Protective Arthur, Protective Merlin, Quests, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 00:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13043133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollrach13/pseuds/mollrach13
Summary: Arthur Pendragon lives a simple life in his cottage nestled within the wide open countryside. That is until a strange man named Merlin comes into his life and convinces him to join a group of mismatched men on a quest for adventure, turning Arthur’s world upside down.The journey takes Arthur on an expedition through the wilderness of rural England, meeting foes and beasts that he could only have even thought of in his wildest dreams.But most importantly it takes Arthur on a journey towards his own destiny as he learns what true friendship is, what true courage is and who he truly is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Utterly and completely inspired by the first Hobbit film. 
> 
> Strong bromance abound with Arthur and Merlin and the Knights. Post Season 5 Canon. My own take on the requisite reincarnation theme. 
> 
> I started writing this so many years ago for a Merlin Big Bang but due to many boring and complicated reasons I couldn’t finish it and had to drop off radar. I found the nearly finished fic when I was clearing out my hard drive a few months ago. After re reading it and realising how close to finishing it I was I have been chipping away at it over the last few months and it is now finished! I want to apologise to all those that I let down all those years ago when I had to drop out, especially with it so close to completion. This is dedicated to them and I hope you all enjoy it.

Arthur liked his life; it was simple, uncomplicated, and full of little things that made him smile. He would wake in the morning in the cosy bedroom of his little cottage, the aged wood beams overhead stark against the white wash between. For breakfast he would have a simple meal of toast, marmalade and a small pot of tea. 

Then he would collect his paper from George, his postman; share a polite nod with the man before he continued on his round. He would read his paper, if the weather was fair enough he would do this outside in his garden amongst his magnolias. Then once the read was finished and all the pages turned Arthur would then head back inside to his study and his desk to write. 

That particular morning, when Arthur woke to the soft bleeping of his alarm, he stretched briefly, swung his legs out of bed, his feet slipping into his sheepskin slippers and pulled back his thick curtains. 

The sun was rising quickly over the gently rolling hills ahead and Arthur smiled serenely; it was going to be a good day.

So that morning, once he had eaten, washed and dressed, Arthur opened the front door to Castle Cottage just in time to meet George at the end of his path. 

“Morning Sir,” George greeted as he did every morning handing over the small bundle of mail to Arthur. 

“Good Morning George, heavy day?” Arthur responded as he did every morning. 

“Not exceptionally sir. Have a good day.”

“You too George,” Arthur answered, already turning and flicking through his mail. There was never anything dreadfully interesting in the packet; sometimes a letter from his publishers, always the requisite bills. At the back of the pack Arthur picked out his newspaper and took up perch on his favourite reading bench.

It was a good bench, sturdy yet rounded and smoothed and it had a perfect view over the picturesque countryside before him.

As always Arthur opened the newspaper to the first page, placed his milky tea on the arm rest and began to read. The sun beat down gently on his face, warming him on its rise through the sky as the news from around the world filtered through the pages into his mind, filling it with stories and adventures ready to be written on page.

As Arthur neared the end of his read he was immersed in the business section. He never told anyone he found most inspiration for his books from the dull and drab business section; these fighting moguls were really like the kings and goliaths of the modern age. A new story of good and evil, of monsters and dragons was percolating in the recesses of his mind, its storming travels and fighting tales were taking shape. But then the sun, that bright spot over his seat, shadowed. 

Frowning Arthur looked up from the black and white text to see the figure of a man stood before him, just opposite the small wall that bracketed Castle Cottage. Arthur’s frown deepened. There didn’t tend to be much foot traffic, or any traffic, on Arthur’s tiny winding lane but this fellow stood before Arthur in the early morning light blocking Arthur’s sun with an idiotic grin lighting up his face.

The black hair atop his head was ruffled and unruly and definitely not styled, and the stubble on his cheeks was in a similar effort of disarray. The man stood tall before Arthur, just smiling idiotically.   
But Arthur was an Englishman, bred with politeness, so he swallowed down his consternation and offered the visitor a smile. “Morning,” he greeted with a slight nod before turning back to his paper.   
He hoped that would be it; that the man would be on his way. Sadly he was mistaken. 

“Yes it is isn’t it,” the man murmured glancing out over the dales spread behind him. 

Arthur narrowed his eyes down at the newspaper, and ignored the man. 

It was funny, Arthur thought, the man seemed to be dressed for a ramble; a dirty blue checked shirt and waterproof hanging limply over his tall frame, but he held no maps, no bags or water. 

“What are you reading?”

Arthur sighed and turned the page, purposefully not looking up. “The news.”

“And you enjoy that?” the stranger continued. ”Reading about the world?”

“Yes,” Arthur relied after a deep breath. “I like to know what is going on.”

“Well there are easier ways to do that,” the man chuckled, now leaning casually against the dry stone wall. 

“Really?” Arthur grit out, trying to retain his polite veneer. “How?”

“Well,” the man smiled sweeping his hand out at the hills behind him. “To go out there and see it!”

Arthur sighed. His peace had completely been interrupted and now he was irritated, which did not help his muse… and this was starting to sound remarkably like the familiar lecture he got from Morgana when he spoke to her once in a blue moon. He stood roughly and turned back to the stranger encroaching on his perfectly lovely morning and offered the man a parting nod. “Good Morning.”

Arthur turned, heading back to the safety and serenity of his cottage. 

“Wait Arthur!”

That made Arthur pause in his step; cautiously he turned, peering at the man who had now moved to stand just before the short wooden gate at the end of the path. “How do you know my name?”

“Oh I know you,” the man waved a dismissive hand, as if this was normal. “Born to Uther and Ygraine, one sister that you don’t see, estranged wife, no children, acclaimed author-“

“You forgot recluse,” Arthur snapped, totally unnerved. “Now, if that is all, good day to you.”

Swiftly, Arthur turned back and retreated into the safe confines of his house, slamming the door behind him. Breathing deeply in relief once he was safely inside Arthur slipped on the deadbolt and peered cautiously out of the small window beside the door. 

The man was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We are off on a journey,” Merlin said quietly into the night sky. “And…well, we were hoping we could convince you to join us.”
> 
> “I don’t even know you,” Arthur scoffed, turning incredulous eyes on Merlin.
> 
> But Merlin just shrugged and offered Arthur a small lopsided smile. “Maybe you could get to know us.”
> 
> “You’re insane.”
> 
> “Perhaps,” Merlin nodded, a secret smile curling on his mouth. Inexplicably Arthur found himself chuckling. “Come,” Merlin spoke again eventually, leaning forward in his seat towards Arthur. “Haven’t you ever wanted an adventure?”

Arthur put the strange encounter out of his mind after that and got down to his work. His latest novel was coming along nicely, a little darker than the previous pieces in the series but Arthur liked it. And he was pretty sure that his publisher would like the big pay check that would come in once it was released. 

The day went by in a blur, his mind running a mile a minute and typing quickly across the page. When the sun had dipped below the scenic hills before his study window Arthur sighed, pushed back from his desk and smiled. Yes – it had been a good day. 

For dinner he cooked himself a lovely meal of matured steak and homemade chips. As the smell of the steaming vegetables filled his home Arthur pottered around, tidying and dusting, straightening all the frames on his mantel piece. He gave the black and white portrait of his mother a fond smile, unnecessarily adjusting its position once more before the oven timer sounded from the kitchen. 

Arthur took his meal at the small table in the kitchen; he set out his condiments and utensils, turned off the oven and hob. Allowing his plate to cool slightly he rinsed the pan, letting the cool tap water to sizzle and spit from the hot pan surface, draining the oils and fat away. 

Satisfied that his later chore of washing up would be much simplified Arthur heaved a pleased breath, his nostrils filling with the appetizing scent of the mouth-watering, pan seared meat. Carefully, he tucked a napkin down the collar of his shirt, took a delicate sip of his glass of wine and picked up his fork. He had been looking forward to this meal all day. 

His knife hovered above the juicy steak, contemplating its first cut, when there was a knock at the door. 

Arthur paused, his knife and fork hovering and frowned in the direction of the front door. 

He certainly wasn’t expecting any visitors, especially at this time of day. Arthur blinked at the old clock hung over the doorway to the kitchen but it still stated twenty passed six in the evening. 

The front door sounded again and Arthur cautiously pulled himself from the table. The night was dark outside the pulled curtains of Castle Cottage but Arthur’s porch light leaked light yellow light over his front step. Peering through the small window beside the door Arthur saw a shadow lurking on his doorstep. 

A tight curling of fear clenched in his stomach as he stared at the stranger stood by his door. From the angle from which he peeked Arthur could only make out the strong line of a back under a worn leather jacket, looking like it had seen much better days and like the proud possession of a man not wanted knocking on Arthur’s door at unsociable hours… or any hour for that matter. 

The decision to smartly ignore this trespasser and hope he went on his way formed in Arthur’s mind, then the stranger turned. 

The man smirked, rough stubble coating both cheeks and long unkempt hair bracketing his face. When he noticed Arthur peering from the small window his mouth quirked into a smirk and Arthur felt himself freeze. He felt stuck in the beams of those smiling eyes staring back at him.

“Oi princess,” the man shouted, its volume muted by the window separating them, “open up. I’m freezing my bollocks off out here.”

Darting back, Arthur almost tripped on the coat stand in his haste to make himself invisible. The rough face appeared at the small window Arthur had been stationed before, his eyes darting back and forth until they landed on Arthur standing stiff and wary in the hallway. 

The mouth smiled again, kinder this time. “Come on, I don’t bite… unless you’re into that?”

Arthur’s eyes rolled on their own accord and the stranger laughed. In the recesses of Arthur’s mind he thought he should know that laugh, it conjured memories of warmth and fun and mischief. He blamed that strange nostalgia for his next move. Arthur cautiously moved forward and unlatched his door, opening it a fraction to see the man on his doorstep. 

He had one moment to give the man a good look -- the leather jacket hanging over a thin brown t-shirt above distressed jeans -- before a body was pushing passed the door into Arthur’s hallway. 

“Excuse me!” Arthur exclaimed as he stumbled back under the force of his door opening. 

“Excused,” the stranger said walking further into Arthur’s home, his heavy boots treading thick muddy footprints over Arthur’s wooden floors. 

Hurriedly, Arthur followed the stranger down the hallway to the kitchen. “I am sorry but this is my home, and you are here against my will. If you don’t leave I will be forced to call the authorities.”

The stranger picked Arthur’s glass of wine from the set table; Arthur’s very nice, and very expensive bottle of Merlot. “If you didn’t want me to come in you shouldn’t have opened the door,” he said before throwing the full contents of the glass to the back of his throat. Arthur made a startled noise of protest but the man just licked his lips, nodding his head in approval. “Nice, any more of that?”

“That was the last of the bottle,” Arthur replied weakly as the stranger placed the empty glass back on the table. 

“Oh, sorry about that then.”

Arthur opened his mouth to respond when the sound of a knock on the door echoed through the house again. Arthur’s eyes shot to the hallway then back to the stranger who had sat himself at Arthur’s kitchen table, his limbs spread out languorously. 

“You’ll wanna get that,” the man nodded towards the hall.

Quickly, Arthur hurried down the hall and pulled open his door. And again, on his doorstep, found a pair of strangers. 

“Hello!” the larger one greeted, a wide smile on his face. His tall frame hovered over Arthur; the arms peering out from the sleeveless North Face vest looked larger than one of Arthur’s thighs. Arthur just looked back and swallowed. 

“Mind out,” the smaller dark skinned companion muttered pushing passed Arthur’s startled form, “before Gwaine eats the whole fridge.”

“Gwaine’s here?” the larger one grinned and followed his friend pushing past Arthur and into the house. 

Once Arthur had collected himself and followed, all three men were hovering around Arthur’s fridge. With forlorn eyes Arthur looked down at his perfectly set dining table, now occupied with an empty plate, only the juices of the steak left behind. 

“It was good.” Arthur looked back up to see ‘Gwaine’ – the shaggy one – looking back at Arthur with approval in his eyes. It immediately made Arthur bristle. “You’re a good cook. Who’da thunk?”

“Right,“ Arthur snapped, striding forward to the three strange man practically in his fridge. “All of you out!” He grabbed the back of Gwaine and the large ones jacket, pulling them bodily away from the food. 

“Hey!” the large one exclaimed, a cold chicken leg falling from his hand. 

“No!” Arthur snapped. “I don’t know what you are all doing here but you will leave. Now!”

Gwaine and the large one stumbled as Arthur forcibly moved them towards the front door, the dark skinned one following quickly behind. 

“But we were invited!” he said, two cheese rolls in either hand, the ones that Arthur had planned to eat for lunch tomorrow. 

“Not by me you weren’t,” Arthur muttered letting go of his cargo to pull open the door. “Now get-“

“Leon!” Gwaine called out, escaping Arthur’s clutches to embrace the man stood on Arthur’s doorstep, fist raised to knock on the door. 

“I see I am late to the party,” the new comer murmured, peering over Gwaine’s leather clad shoulder. 

At least this one didn’t look so out of place with his thick woollen coat pulled over a thick knit grey jumper, his blond hair curling off to one side of his face, windswept from the hills. This ‘Leon’ at least ad the decency to offer Arthur a commiserating smile as he was led by Gwaine into the house, the shaggy haired man kicking the door shut with his muddy boots. 

Arthur stood forlornly in his hallway as the four men went further into his home, his personal space of neatness and sanctuary, and listened with a wince as he heard the tell-tale squeak of the pantry door opening. 

“Hey!” a deep voice of the larger man echoed down the hall, “There’s more food in here.”

Arthur’s eyes zeroed in on the dollop of dirt on his Heritage European Oak door. With a huff through his nostrils Arthur snatched a spare cloth from the cupboard and began to furiously rub at the stain. All the while sounds of his pantry being raided echoed through the house. 

Arthur wasn’t even surprised when a throat cleared above his head where he was crouched on the floor of his Cottage. He looked up, an annoyed frown marring his face to see a forth stranger stood on his doorstep. The man’s classically handsome features pulled into a worried expression as Arthur waved the man agitatedly into the house. 

“Oh,” the man mumbled, stepping gingerly over the threshold. “Sorry to disturb you. I was looking for-“

“They’re here,” Arthur mumbled waving his hand distractedly in the direction of the kitchen. “Raiding my kitchen as we speak. Please join them.”

“Ah,” the man chuckled. “I’m Lancelot,” he greeted sticking out his hand in greeting. “Most call me Lance these days.”

“Arthur,” Arthur grouched in response, passing his own hand up to meet Lance’s. “You’d better hurry; you don’t want to miss out on the illegal looting of my things.”

“Will do,” Lance nodded, glancing nervously around the hallway to the cottage. “So… Arthur… have you lived here-“ the man’s feeble attempt at starting conversation whilst trespassing was cut off when an almighty crash sounded from the kitchen. Arthur closed his eyes against the clatter of what sounded like his crystal decanter shattering. 

Lance glanced nervously towards the back of the house where the kitchen was and then guilty back at Arthur edging away. “I’d better just go make sure they’re behaving themselves.”

“Yes,” Arthur snapped, scrubbing furiously at the door again. “You go do that.”

Exclamations and greetings could be heard from the kitchen as Lance made his way back there. Standing jerkily Arthur slammed his partially cleaned door shut (he would need to get the wood cleaner on it tomorrow) and made sure to double lock the door and pull the chain into place. 

Then he turned his back to the door and faced down the hollow of his hall. He took a deep breath and moved his feet forward, his back straight and strong. 

The scene that he found at the back of the house looked like something out of a horror movie or nightmare, or maybe it was just Arthur’s nightmare. 

His small country kitchen was now hidden under plates of food, empty packets, dirty glasses, bowls and oddly enough, a whisk. To the left Arthur stepped forward to see further into his long dining area. Here, the table was set like a medieval feast. Meat and apples and vegetables and glasses were all over the table and around each side these five strangers sat, laughing and talking and eating far more loudly than one needed to do. 

Glancing down at the table Arthur felt his anger spike up once more. 

“These are my mother’s china!” he snapped, grabbing one of the fine bone china plates from the table. 

“Really?” Gwaine mumbled around a mouth full of bread. The man picked the plate up, its contents all sliding and falling onto the bare table top as he inspected the pattern. “Hum, nice pattern. Must have cost a few bob.”

“Here let me see,” the large one called from the opposite side of the table.

Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as Gwaine launched his mother’s china plate into the air across the hardwood table. He tracked its movement in slow motion his eyes widening in horror after each second of gravity-less traveling. 

Then the plate landed smoothly, cradled in the large man’s hands as he tipped it back and forth under the light bulb above.

“Relax princess,” Gwaine grinned, picking up his Yorkshire pudding where it had fallen onto the table, “Percival here is a good catch.”

“That’s not what the gals at the pub say!” Leon retorted, the whole table gaffed with laughter, all apart from ‘Percival’ who threw a hand full of pea’s in Leon’s direction, the little green balls hitting the man and bouncing off to various corners of the dining room.

Then a sound came from the front hall again. But this time it wasn’t a knock of someone attempting to gain entry. This time is was the sound of Arthur’s dead bolted front door swinging shut. Arthur looked with wide eyes at the table. The men had now calmed down into a sense of expectation, like a class when they hear their teacher’s steps down the corridor.

“Shouldn’t you see who that is?” Gwaine smirked, leaning back on his chair, titling it onto two legs. 

Arthur glanced nervously at each man now sat quietly, looking at him. Swallowing, Arthur carefully walked towards the hall and stuck his head out of the dining room to see a man stood there inside his hallway turning the lock shut on his front door. The dim lights of the hallway cast the man’s features into shadow and Arthur shivered as if feeling electricity tickling at his spine. Then the figure turned. And there the scruffy anomaly that started this whole fiasco stood in his hallway. 

“You!” Arthur hissed, striding dangerously down the hall, all previous anxiousness swept away under his thrum of annoyance and anger.

“Me!” the stranger grinned, his smile no less idiotic than it had been first thing this morning when he disturbed Arthur’s morning paper. “Hello again Arthur.”

“Who are all these people?“ Arthur stuttered waving behind him to the kitchen. “And who are you... and how did you get in here? I put the chain on!”

“Oh?“ the man murmured looking back at the reclosed door. “Really?”

Arthur shut his eyes briefly, praying for fortitude before glaring back at the man. “You cannot just use my house, my property, as a meeting point for your band of renegades!” 

“Oh dear,” the man muttered, pulling his woollen hat from his head and ruffling his hair. “You are a bit highly strung.”

“You know it Merlin.”

Arthur turned to see Gwaine leaning casually against the hallway wall behind. He also noted, with a sinking heart, that the man had one of Arthur’s silk handkerchiefs stuffed down the front of his t-shirt as a bib and Arthur’s last chicken leg in his hand. 

“Gwaine!” the odd man greeted pushing past Arthur into the hallway and accepting a pat on the back from Gwaine. 

“Come,” Gwaine greeted this ‘Merlin’ warmly, “we have food.”

“Excellent!”

Then Arthur watched helplessly as Gwaine led Merlin down the hallway to the kitchen, the last chicken leg going with them. 

“Wait!” Arthur called after the pair, but they had already disappeared from sight. 

“Merlin!” Arthur heard the crowd chorus just out of sight as the newcomer entered their midst. After quickly glancing back to frown at his door, the deadbolt and chain magically back in place, Arthur hurried down the hall after the pair. 

Gwaine had already retaken his seat and Merlin was slowly peeling off the layers of his battered waterproof jacket, draping it neatly over the back of an empty chair. 

“I see I am the last one here,” the man said smiling at the group.

“Nothing changes then eh Merlin?” The dark one responded.

“Good to see you too Elyan,” Merlin greeted warmly patting the man on the back. He circled the table going to stand behind the empty seat at the head. “It is good to see you all.” Merlin smiled down on each member of the table, his eyes holding individual sparks of warmth and affection for each man.

“Now,” Merlin continued, still with the rapt attention of every man in the room, all food and wine and whisky forgotten, “they say that the beginning of any journey is as important as the end. So let us begin, with good food, good company and a gracious host.” Merlin titled his glass in Arthur’s direction where he still stood dumbfounded by the door.

“Arthur, will you join us?”

Arthur looked at all his food laid out crumbing and half eaten across his table, the dollops of jam and god knows what else sitting on its naked surface. His plates and bowls all dirtied and used and the myriad of strangers sitting around his long dining table that had never once, not in his years of living here, been filled. 

Swallowing all that wanted to spill from his mouth Arthur sent the most contemptuous glare he could muster in Merlin’s direction and stormed out.

He heard the scraping of a chair in his wake, the sound of someone making to follow but then he heard Merlin’s voice drift in from the silent dining room. 

“No,” the man muttered. “Leave him be.”

Arthur had time to take a deep breath in relief as he fled as fast as he could go. 

Strangely, he found himself back on his reading bench, its wooden slats cold and moist in the night air now as the sun had long set beyond the hills. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there for, staring out over the ink black sky, attempting to recognize as many of the stars and constellations as possible, anything to keep his mind calm and focused. 

But after some minutes -- ten or twenty, Arthur didn’t care -- a warm figure settled beside him on the bench. Arthur did his best not to startle at the sudden form, having not heard any approaching footsteps or any doors opening, but Merlin’s body radiated heat beside him, so much so that it was difficult to stop leaning into it for warmth.

The man didn’t say anything as they sat there; he too trained his eyes out to the sky, an air of infinite patience about him. Oddly enough Arthur felt his shoulders falling from their hunch by his ears and his frown settled out into a tired expression.

“Why are you all here?” he asked eventually, his eyes falling to the dry stone wall set around Castle Cottage before him.

“We are off on a journey,” Merlin said quietly into the night sky. “And…well, we were hoping we could convince you to join us.”

“I don’t even know you,” Arthur scoffed, turning incredulous eyes on Merlin.

But Merlin just shrugged and offered Arthur a small lopsided smile. “Maybe you could get to know us.”

“You’re insane.”

“Perhaps,” Merlin nodded, a secret smile curling on his mouth. Inexplicably Arthur found himself chuckling. “Come,” Merlin spoke again eventually, leaning forward in his seat towards Arthur. “Haven’t you ever wanted an adventure?”

“No,” Arthur shook his head adamantly, “most definitely not.”

“Oh, come on Arthur. It will be fun!”

“No,” Arthur said quickly pushing himself to stand. “I’m sorry,” he spoke formally to the still sitting man. ”You are welcome to stay the night, but I cannot come with you. I have responsibilities here.” 

“Alright,” Merlin sighed, looking up at Arthur with wide blue eyes. “Well…. Good night then Arthur.”

“Goodnight,” Arthur nodded in farewell, “Merlin,” he added in a hushed whisper on the end, the name sending a little fissure of strange energy through his body. Shaking his head Arthur carried on his journey inside, ignoring the calls and laughter from the dining room he headed straight for the stairs. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Decided to join us after all Arthur?” Elyan smiled down at him from his position just before Gwaine. 
> 
> Arthur took a deep breath a straightened up as much as he could, ignoring the growing line of perspiration on his top lip. “You are all insane,” he announced calmly. ”You need supervision.”
> 
> The party of men, sat much higher up than Arthur, stared down upon him, suddenly the tension broke and Leon chuckled. “Someone get the man a horse!” he hollered, with a smile.

Arthur woke in increments, coming into the world slowly as a stray column of warmth and light lay across his face. Eventually he peeled open his eyes to see the sun streaming into his bedroom through the small gap in his drawn curtain. Groaning, Arthur turned his face, the embroidery of his over-blanket scratching against his cheek. 

That was odd, he mused in his mind; he had slept above the covers. 

Suddenly the strange and unnerving events of the day before shot through Arthur’s mind and his eyes slammed open. Straining his ears he listened out for the shuffling, the scuffling, the laughter and shouts that had permeated his brain as he fell to sleep the night before… but it was silent. 

Gingerly Arthur pushed himself from the mattress, its springs squeaking as he slithered down the bed until his feet hit the floor. Still in the clothes he had worn the day before Arthur delicately tiptoed down the stairs, not wanting to wake any sleeping brutes passed out on his floors. 

But when he got to the head of the stairs he could see no sign of life down below. Frowning, Arthur’s steps quickened as he trotted down the stairs. But there was nothing. 

Arthur meandered from room to room; his front room, his kitchen, his pantry, all free from foreign bodies and every surface in the cottage as sparkling clean and clear as they had been the morning before. 

When Arthur got to the dining room he stopped. His table was bare and clean, every piece of his mother’s china stacked neatly and intact in the china cabinet, every chair pushed in neatly to the table face. Blinking Arthur moved further into the space, mesmerised by the kept room. 

A shocking thought ran through his whole body – had he imagined it all? Had he been so far into his own literary muse that he had imagined a gaggle of intruders in his house and passed out on top his bed sheets? 

Arthur’s furious mind mumbles came to a halt as he noticed something green and out of place on the floor by the drinks bureau. He crouched slowly, his hand stretching out before him. Once he had straightened back up he inspected the tiny object in his hand. There, in the midst of his organized dining room, millimetres from rolling beneath the cabinet was a pea.

Arthur was moving before he even knew it; his feet thundered towards the front door, a desperate thrumming in his heart.

His feet skidded to a halt before the large wooden door as he noticed his small walking rucksack leant against the wood of the thick door. Its bulbous shape gave away its full nature and Arthur grinned, grabbing the bag from the floor and running from the door. 

He heard the front door slam loudly behind him as he took a jog up the winding lane, its narrow road and dry stone walls leading up the valley to the woods beyond. He hefted his bag onto his back and fixed his eyes forward, never once looking behind at the retreating figure of Castle Cottage amongst the fields. 

*

Arthur’s breath was coming in spurts from his mouth, his chest heaving with strain by the time he caught up to the party. He spied them up on a ridge above him, each man sat tall and regally upon the back of a beautiful brown horse as they trotted through the quiet forest, the sun streaming gently through the foliage above. Arthur blinked and tripped in his hasty pace. If you ignored the various ensembles of 21st Century dress it looked like a scene from one of his novels. 

“Hey!” he called once he had regained his composure and begun scrambling up the steep incline. “Hey, wait up!”

“Hey,” Gwaine murmured, slowing his horse to a stop and leaning forward on crossed arms leant on his horse’s neck to peer down at Arthur. “It’s the princess!”

The rest of the party drew to a stop, each man looking back to see what the holdup was. 

“Decided to join us after all Arthur?” Elyan smiled down at him from his position just before Gwaine. 

Arthur took a deep breath a straightened up as much as he could, ignoring the growing line of perspiration on his top lip. “You are all insane,” he announced calmly. ”You need supervision.”

The party of men, sat much higher up than Arthur, stared down upon him, suddenly the tension broke and Leon chuckled. “Someone get the man a horse!” he hollered, with a smile. 

Arthur felt his gaze drifting along the line of men all smiling down upon him to the front of the party. Here, Merlin sat tall and strong upon his own horse. The man stared back at Arthur, his smile relatively small considering the grins Arthur had seen him sporting, but no less sincere. 

“Welcome aboard Arthur,” he murmured quietly, but Arthur heard it clearly. Then he lifted his hands to his lips and blew an almighty whistle through the forest. Birds scattered from their perches and Arthur clapped his hands over his ears. 

“What the bloody hell was that?” he asked indignantly once the ringing had stopped. The rest of the group didn’t look they had faired any better at the abrupt sound, all of them shaking their heads and rubbing at their ears. 

“I was calling you a horse,” Merlin shrugged, jumping down from his own mount. 

Arthur frowned and thought back over that sentence, but it made no more sense the second time around as it had the first. He opened his mouth to reiterate that this man was clearly insane when the soft clatter of horse’s hooves echoed through forest around them. 

Arthur turned and before him sat the most magnificent horse he had ever seen. Its coat was a deep chestnut brown and seemed to shine in the columns of light permeating the leaves above, its legs and back strong, their muscles shifting with grace beneath the surface. 

The horse shifted on the ground before him, its mane tossed from side to side as he settled into his stance. 

“This is Hengroen,” Merlin said, startling Arthur from his trance as he walked around Arthur’s still form. Merlin lifted a long hand to the horse’s snout who leant down and nuzzled the offered touch with affection. “He can be strong willed but he is a good horse. He will see you well.”

Merlin turned from his loving gaze on the creature to Arthur. Then Arthur caught up. 

“Oh,” he muttered, backing away from the huge creature, “no, no, I don’t ride.”

“Oh, yes you do,” a deep voice came from behind him and Percival’s large hands grabbed his shoulders ushering him forwards. 

“No really,” Arthur tried to protest, struggling fruitlessly in the strong grip, “I can walk, I’ll keep up.”

“Stop whining Arthur,” Merlin admonished once Arthur had reached him. He grabbed one of Arthur’s cold hands in his warm grasp and lifted it to the horse’s nose. “Let him feel you, I am sure you will become great friends.”

At first Hengroen shied away from the forced contact but slowly, whilst Merlin muttered incomprehensible things under his breath to the horses twitching ear, the beast stilled and allowed Arthur’s hand to be manipulated up and down his long face. 

Arthur soon became mesmerised by the smooth hair beneath his hand and then he looked up only to find the horse starting right back at him. The beast’s large brown eyes blinked at him slowly, Arthur’s face reflected in their film. A wave of incomprehensible familiarity flowed through him, 

“See,” Merlin said. Arthur blinked and realized the man had stepped away and Arthur’s hand was running freely up Hengroen’s coat. The strange man stood off to the side, his hands braced on his hips and an air of smug satisfaction about him. “I knew you would like each other.”

“Oh shut up Merlin,” Arthur muttered without much thought. The rest of the group chuckled with laughter as Arthur turned his back on Merlin and placed his foot gently in the stirrup. Swallowing down his nerves Arthur hardened his face and pulled up on the reigns, swinging his foot over the horse and up onto the saddle. 

Hengroen shifted and pawed back and forth nervously under Arthur’s handling as the man swayed slightly in his seat. Arthur gripped the reigns under his hands, unused to the feeling of the ground moving beneath him and willed himself not to fall. 

“Woah,” Merlin murmured from down below. He strode forward again, patting a gentle hand to the steads neck. “Easy.”

And funnily enough the horse calmed, and stilled, and soon Arthur was sat up top this fine horse, reigns in hand, feeling like he were defying gravity. 

Arthur waited for Merlin’s smug voice but the man just patted Hengroen once more and shot Arthur a kind smile before advancing back to the front of the column. He swung his legs much more neatly onto the back of his own stead and the party continued forward without word. 

Lest he be left behind Arthur looked down at his unmoving horse. “Uh,” he muttered to the horse, “go?” Nothing happened; Arthur glanced up to make sure no one had seen that. Cautiously he squeezed his legs against the horse’s hind and let out a little yelp as the horse moved forward beneath him. 

They meandered quietly through the quiet forest for a while. Arthur soaked in the atmosphere around him. The thick trees and bushes felt like they hadn’t seen a human in years, their branches and paths not used to the trample of men, but Merlin led the way from the front with expert care, seeming to find the easy paths effortlessly through the shadowed trees. 

“Where did you get these horses?” Arthur asked after a while. The creature between his thighs was an impressive beast by any standards and it had been strangely calm to an unseasoned and inexperienced rider on his back; obviously highly trained. 

“Oh, we stole them from a farm back there,” Percival hollered from behind. Somehow in their journey Arthur had unconsciously made his way to the front of the column, only one behind Merlin. 

Arthur shot the large man a startled look over his shoulder then snapped his gaze forward, eyes now narrowed in anger only to find the man ahead rolling his eyes. 

“They are my horses,” Merlin explained with an unamused glare shot at Percival. 

Arthur couldn’t help the disbelieving snort that escaped his mouth as he looked at the fine horses each man was riding and then back to Merlin, his hair still ruffled messily as it had been the first morning and a battered rain-Mack covering his dirty checked shirt. “Your horses?”

“I’ve had many horses over the years,” Merlin shrugged staring back ahead. “I like to ride, I find it… comforting.”

Arthur nodded faintly, again taking in the sights around him. It certainly was peaceful. 

“No offence Prof,” Gwaine piped up from the back of the pack. “Not that I am not enjoying our expedition back to nature but you can’t beat the hum of an engine between your thighs.”

“Let me guess,” Arthur said, turning his head to peer at Gwaine over his shoulder. “You ride a motorbike.”

“You guess me right,” Gwaine grinned. 

Arthur accepted this with a large amount of comprehension. Looking at the man again; his free flying hair, leather jacket, devil-may-care grin, he looked exactly like the reckless youths who rode their two wheeled hairdryers up and down the nearby country lanes at irresponsible speeds. 

Arthur rolled his eyes, turning away and caught Lance doing the same thing. “It’s a Harley,” the quiet man explained, the same level of exasperation in his tone as Arthur was feeling. 

“All that horse power between your legs,” Elyan loudly whispered. “You think he’s making up for something?”

Arthur cautiously chuckled along with the rest of the men amidst Gwaine’s vehement denial. 

“I do agree there is something thrilling about 21st Century engines,” Merlin spoke from the front. As always the voices and cat calls quieted down at the first sign of this man’s voice. “That is an adventure all on its own. Have you ever driven Route 66?” Merlin asked excitedly, almost turning all the way around to address the group. 

Arthur shook his head and felt Lance do similar beside him. 

“Oh, it’s amazing,” Merlin continued wistfully. “I bought this shell of an old car, tinkered with it a bit and just took it on the road. Stopped at all these little towns and places on the way…”

“And the car lasted?” Elyan asked incredulously. 

“Hey,” Merlin chuckled, “don’t judge my skill with an engine. I know a few things.” 

“How many times did you break down on this trip Merlin?” Lance asked. All eyes stared back at Merlin who shifted in his seat. 

“Only a few times,” he muttered annoyed after a while. 

“How many times?” Leon prodded, everyone leaning forward to hear the answer. 

“The engine might have blown up,” the man murmured quietly, “only a little bit!”

Elyan chuckled shaking his head and leaning back in his saddle. “Next time you wanna fix up a car Merlin, do me a favour and bring it to me. No need to endanger the rest of humanity because of your curiosity with machinery.”

“You’re a mechanic?” Arthur asked interestedly, turning to gaze at Elyan. 

The man in question nodded easily. “Yup, got my own little garage just outside Bristol.”

It shouldn’t have been shocking that these men were real people, with real jobs abandoned in the real world, outside this odd trek they were all partaking in. For some reason it struck Arthur, he looked back along the line of men behind him. “You all have real jobs?” he asked curiously. 

“No,” Percival said blandly, “we spend our lives trekking through the countryside stopping at every little cottage we come across.”

“Well I wouldn’t be surprised,” Arthur muttered, the annoyance of having watching his pantry raided still not abandoned him quite yet. “You seemed quite apt at it.”

“I’m a teacher,” Percy replied, chuckling. “PE teacher at a school in Brixton.”

“I was a solider,” Lance spoke up, causing Arthur to swivel his gaze to him, “in the infantry. Came back from Iraq a few months ago.”

Arthur opened his mouth at Lance’s calm face, not really knowing what to say.

“I’m an Assets Merger for a small cross national conglomerate,” Leon said, all eyes switching to him. 

“Well,” Gwaine muttered. “Well done Leon, that’s the last anyone’s going to ask you for a while.”

Arthur had to laugh at Leon’s put out frown and pushed his horse forward as they carried on their slow journey.

*

They continued on until the odd sensation of sitting in a saddle was too much for Arthur’s bottom to take, even with his stubborn need to keep up with the rest. With the obligatory mocking and jeers the party came to a stop beside a small river, its clear waters slowly winding over the rocks beneath it and further on, down to the forest beyond. 

It wasn’t until Arthur gingerly lowered himself to a smooth looking rock and had been passed a ham roll from a smiling Lance did he realize how hungry he actually was. 

The roll was gone in a scant few mouthfuls, his hunger still not abated. 

“Here,” a voice muttered, a second roll being shoved under his nose. Arthur took the sandwich held before him without second thought and bit into the fluffy bun, the tang of the cheese sharp on his tongue. 

Belatedly he looked up to see Merlin watching him with an amused smile on his lips. 

“Sorry,” Arthur muttered around a mouthful of bread and cheese. 

“No,” Merlin chuckled, waving a hand, “no bother. You seemed hungry.” 

“But what about-“

“I’m good,” the man interrupted. “I’ve got an apple in my pack.”

Merlin settled down in his perch on the floor, one knee bent up casually against the floor, the second sprawled out before him. 

Arthur swallowed down the last of the roll and surveyed the man before him. He was still an enigma; odd, strange but seeming familiar and easy, not something that Arthur ever found with human to human interaction. Not in school, not with his family, not at University and not with his wife; but with this man, who sprung strangely into his life yesterday, dragging it out of Arthur’s rigorous and well trusted order, Arthur felt himself relax and fall into a calm version of himself he wasn’t quite aware had existed… it was quite a nice feeling. 

“So where exactly are we going?” Arthur asked, brushing the crumbs from his jeans to the forest floor.

Merlin looked back at him and shrugged, his head leaning easily back against the tree trunk. “On an adventure.”

“Yes,” Arthur huffed in annoyance, tuning to look at Merlin more fully. “But where to?”

“Oh Arthur,” Merlin muttered with a patient smile. “If you know where you are going it is hardly an adventure.”

“If you don’t know where you are going it is aimless wandering.”

“Ah,” Merlin said sitting up more fully and pulling at a blade of grass, “but we know where we are going.”

“Oh really,” Arthur scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. “Where?”

Merlin leant forward, furtively peering to see that no one was listening. Arthur leant forward, expectation and a little excitement swelling in his gut. Quietly, Merlin whispered into the space between them, like a secret between two long-time friends:

“On an adventure.”

Arthur’s held breath left his mouth in an annoyed gush. “You’re impossible,” Arthur sighed flopping back into his seat as Merlin chuckled at Arthur’s crestfallen expression. 

Merlin grinned pushing himself to stand and passing Arthur another roll as if from nowhere. “Come on, eat. You’ll need your strength.”

Arthur took the roll reluctantly, glaring at the grinning man. “To deal with you I fear I will need more than that.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur shifted in his seat uneasily, feeling over exposed, and swallowing down his reactive defence of the books main protagonist. 
> 
> “Merriweather is actually a very telling and clever choice of name for that character. Immediately you are given the image of someone happy, and bright,” Lance spoke softly, his eyes drifting over to Merlin, “someone who looks to see the best in men.”
> 
> Merlin cleared his throat and averted his eyes shifting in his seat. “See isn’t this nice, we are all getting along.”
> 
> “Cool your loins Prof,” Gwaine muttered, “it’s just the first night, let’s see what he cooks up for breakfast first.”

The party continued on through more trees, more leaves and green into the late afternoon when Merlin drew them all to a stop in a large flat clearing, its floor quite free of rocks and plants. 

All the men hopped down neatly from their horses, including Arthur who only stumbled slightly. The rest of the guys were scattered around the clearing, each hefting their own bags to places around the glade, each man’s pack small, neat and surprisingly concise for camping in the woods…

Arthur’s brow contracted together as he watched Elyan, who was stationed closest to him, fling out his sleeping bag and straight on to the forest floor.

His eyes darted up and around the clearing to see each man doing similarly and then finally narrowed in on Merlin. “Where are the tents?” Arthur asked quickly, hoping to god he had missed something here. 

Merlin was busy frowning at the sleeping bag spread out on the floor before him, batting at the puffy fabric. “What tents?”

“The ones we will be sleeping in?”

“Oh we don’t need tents,” Merlin scoffed going back to arranging his sleeping bag on the floor. “It is a mild night, we will be fine.”

“Mild night?” Arthur squeaked. “It’s autumn!”

“It’s September,” Merlin muttered, rolling his eyes. “We are hardly going to freeze to death. Look, I bought you the most expensive sleeping bag they had, feel it; it’s thick!”

Merlin pulled a further sleeping sack from his own bag. Arthur narrowed his eyes for a moment at the small pack that was seemingly much larger than it looked, then Merlin shook the sleeping bag at him eagerly, a happy grin on his face. Arthur was tired, and he ached, and he was hungry… again. He looked down at the bag he would be sleeping in and felt his nostrils flare. 

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into this,” Arthur snapped, looking around the clearing they had found themselves in, “this is ridiculous!” He ignored the way Merlin’s shoulders slumped slightly and the light in his eyes dimmed. He refused to feel guilty, the man hadn’t even arranged for suitable provisions. 

“Oh relax,” Gwaine murmured, lazily stretching out on his sleeping bag nearby.

“You know that people telling you to relax is probably the least relaxing statement to hear,” Arthur said, glaring at Gwaine who just grinned back, crossing his arms languorously behind his head as he lay on his back. Arthur looked around the clearing to see the rest of the men laying out their own sleeping bags and then to Lance, who had probably slept in much worse conditions. Looking back at his own sleep sack which Merlin was still holding hopefully out to him… it did look slightly thicker and warmer than the others. 

Eventually he sighed, letting his shoulders fall in defeat. 

“Fine,” he muttered, snatching the stuffed sack from Merlin’s hands and laying it down on the most twig free piece of earth he could find. “Please tell me you’ve at least brought a camping cooker?”

“Um,” Merlin muttered. Arthur looked up to see the man shifting in place. “I suppose this would be a bad time to ask if you wanted to collect fire wood.”

Arthur bit his tongue and just allowed his glare in Merlin’s direction to communicate his feelings on the matter. 

“Right,” Merlin mumbled. “I’d best go get the firewood then.”

Murmurs of assent rumbled from each man. Arthur kept his mouth shut and sent Merlin a final, unhappy glare before the man disappearing into the trees.

*

Once Arthur was finally happy with the placement of his sleeping bag he gingerly lowered himself down onto it. 

In the optimistic early morning light this had seemed like a good idea, an adventure. But now, in the cooling heat of the evening, with an empty stomach and - Arthur wriggled on his mat… yes he was most definitely laying on a rock – all it felt like was a pain in the neck

“You missing home princess?” Gwaine called mockingly from his side of the clearing. 

Arthur grit his jaw and kept his gaze fixed solely on the green canopy above his head. “Do I miss my ergonomic mattress and central heating? I feel no shame admitting so.”

“It is a bit rural isn’t it?” Leon spoke eagerly. “My phone doesn’t even work out here. It’s fantastic!” 

Arthur peered across the clearing to see Leon smiling excitedly. Apparently the life of an Assets merger induced mania. He went back to watching the canopy above, hoping that if he just closed his eyes hard enough he would magically appear back home. 

An innumerable amount of time later (and Arthur had no way of knowing how much time exactly because he had neglected to bring a watch or any other timing device) Merlin’s clumsy steps erupted from the tree line; a bundle of logs and twigs in one arm and a flurry of rabbits triumphantly grasped in the other. 

“I caught us some dinner!” he announced eagerly as he dropped the assortment of wood at the centre of the clearing. 

Lance’s eyes lit up eagerly and came forward to assist Merlin with Elyan and Percival taking over with the logs. Arthur watched apprehensively as Lance surveyed the catch of furry creatures and drew a switch blade from his back pocket. Swallowing down his nausea, Arthur slammed his eyes back shut, desperately trying to ignore the sound of tearing flesh.

He must have dosed off slightly as the next morsel of awareness Arthur suffered was the subtle aroma of wood burning and meat cooking. 

The huddle of men sat off to the side, all congregated over on Leon and Lance’s mats, a quiet card game exchanging amongst them. Merlin sat by the fire, manually turning a stick above the flame, three rabbits spit roasted on its length. 

“Arthur,” Merlin said with a smile when Arthur shifted to sitting, stretching his ever aching limbs. “You’re awake; I was worried you would miss dinner.”

The man then went back to the slow turn of the stick turning the rapidly charring flesh above the fires heat. Free of its furry coat and blood the meat didn’t look any different to that which Arthur purchased in his butchers shop, but the results… 

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked irritably, coming up to the side of the fire. Its warmth seeped quickly into Arthur’s cooling limbs and he stretched his hands out, wriggling them above the heat. 

“Um,” Merlin mumbled frowning between Arthur and the fire, “cooking dinner?”

“No,” Arthur snorted, “you are crucifying the dinner. Give it here.” Arthur moved Merlin’s hand roughly away from the spit, levering it away from the fire. Thankfully the meat on the bones wasn’t charred as much as Arthur had worried. Quickly he pushed each animal from the stick and onto a nearby flat rock. He cast his eyes around, but before he could even open his mouth in request a switchblade hovered under his nose. 

Following the arm back up Arthur saw it belonged to Merlin, his smile oddly excited. With a huff Arthur snatched the knife away and began to carefully cut the rabbits meat from the bones.

“Uh oh,” a cheery voice called out from the haggle of men. Arthur was becoming unfortunately attuned to Gwaine’s teasing jeer. “Princess is getting his hands dirty.”

Arthur looked up with narrowed eyes from under his fringe sending an irritated glare at the now spectating men. “I’m cooking dinner; anyone wanting to eat will cease all comments.”

The group chuckled lowly and Percival raised his hands in surrender. “Said nothing boss.”

After sending each man their own individual glare and ensuring that no one was about to comment Arthur continued with his work. Soon enough the meat was ready to cook. Arthur looked up and glanced forlornly around the clearing, noting the trees, the grass, the rocks and then almost jumped when his gaze turned to Merlin, who was still sitting, silently watching.

Covering his start with a glare at the man, who just smiled even wider in response, Arthur huffed and looked back down at dinner-in-making.

“I suppose it is too much to ask that you have a sprig of parsley?”

Arthur utterly expected Merlin’s rueful shake of the head and sighed once more, thinking wistfully of his fully stocked cupboards back home.

*

“I take it back,” Gwaine spoke a while later through a mouth full of rabbit, “it was definitely a good idea to bring the princess along.”

Percival and Leon murmured in agreement. Elyan was too busy licking his small metal bowl clean to respond much past a small nod of the head. 

Swallowing his mouthful quickly Arthur sent a questioning look at Gwaine, then the rest of them. “When did you say it wasn’t?”

“Behind your back,” Gwaine replied quickly and easily, sending Arthur a playful smile. 

A surprise snort escaped Arthur’s mouth. Lowering his eyes he shook his head at his nearly finished food. Friendships and relationships in general had never been his strong suit. At school the other boys’ gentle and peerage teasing made Arthur stiff and defensive, at home his father’s brusque manner was stifling and his sister’s sharp affection uneasy. He had never had a group of what most people had, and he was fine with that, but here in this group of odd men he had only know for a day Arthur felt his shoulder’s dropping, his guard falling and his stance softening…. It was very strange and conversely made Arthur feel distinctly uneasy. 

He looked back up now to the group of men laughing amicably. 

“… gods you wouldn’t believe it,” Leon was continuing. “At the office-“

His anecdote was promptly cut off when Percival and Gwaine simultaneously slumped on to each other, loud overdramatic snores emitting from their mouths. 

“Oh come on!” Leon huffed, “it wasn’t even going to be anything about work!”

“Alright, alright,” Gwaine mumbled, pulling himself back up to sitting. “Please, continue.”

Leon eyed the pair sceptically for a moment before opening his mouth once more. “As I was saying. Once at the office-“

The pair slumped into feigned sleep again, now joined with Merlin, Lance and Elyan, their bear like snorts echoing loudly in the trees. 

“You’re all wankers,” Leon said, throwing a twig in Elyan’s direction. But he was smiling, laughter crinkling in his eyes and joined in when the rest of the men emerged from their act, chuckling merrily. 

Arthur swallowed down the odd feeling in his chest; it was tight and foreign and had no place being there.

“Arthur,” Elyan chuckled, bringing Arthurs attention back into the fold. “What about you?”

Arthur frowned, his eyes quickly flitting around the group before coming back to Elyan’s wide open face. “What about me?”

“Well, we’ve been heralded with Percival’s footie team’s exploits, been scarred for life by Gwaine. And narrowly missed death by boredom from Leon,” Elyan chuckled as he dodged another vaulted twig from Leon. “It’s your turn to entertain.”

“Oh,” Arthur mumbled in realisation, leaning further back on his log as if he could merge with the shadows behind and escape the six stares now on him, “no, I don’t-“

“Arthur’s an amazing story teller.” Arthur swung his wide eyes to Merlin who was smiling excitedly. “He writes novels.”

“Really?” Leon asked, his eyes sparking with interest. “What kind?”

“Just, nothing really,” Arthur swallowed. He was never very comfortable talking about his stories. “Just fiction type stuff.”

“Nonsense Arthur, they are beautiful stories,” Merlin said earnestly. “Full of kings and queens and magic and dragons. So full of life and adventure.”

“I wish I had read them,” Elyan said. 

“Oh.” Merlin straightened up, jumping from his seat. “I have one in my pack!”

Arthur watched Merlin’s raised behind with disbelief as the man rummaged through his seemingly never ending pack. “Seriously?” he asked. Soon enough Merlin popped back up, a battered paperback in hand, smiling like the mad man he was.

“I always carry one with me.”

“Here,” Gwaine called, stretching grabby hand out before him like a toddler, “let me read.”

Arthur caught a glimpse of the tattered cover of “A Kingdoms Curse” as it sailed through the air into Gwaine’s waiting hands. His body made an aborted little movement as if to intercept but he pushed it back down. He was well aware how odd it was for an author not to like his books being read. But his stories, his books, were more than that to him. 

The stories and characters he created were like pieces of himself; external elements he was fiercely protective over. And he hated them out there, in books shops all over the world, without Arthur there to defend them. He couldn’t count the amount of arguments he had had with his wife over his ‘strange attachment’ to these fictional characters, when he got into a snit over a bad review. She could never understand that they were more than that, more like memories of people lost and gone. 

So Arthur watched on with trepidation, his muscles quivering in his being, as he watched Gwaine thumb open the well-read book to a random page, Percival, Leon and Elyan crowded around him.

“Merriweather,” Percival sniffed, “what kind of name is that?”

“Yeah ‘Percival’,” Elyan snorted, “odd name.”

“Your one to talk ‘Elyan’,” Percival returned with a soft elbow into the man’s stomach.

“Children,” Leon chastised, his eyes not leaving the page. 

Arthur shifted in his seat uneasily, feeling over exposed, and swallowing down his reactive defence of the books main protagonist. 

“Merriweather is actually a very telling and clever choice of name for that character. Immediately you are given the image of someone happy, and bright,” Lance spoke softly, his eyes drifting over to Merlin, “someone who looks to see the best in men.”

Merlin cleared his throat and averted his eyes shifting in his seat. “See isn’t this nice, we are all getting along.”

“Cool your loins Prof,” Gwaine muttered, “it’s just the first night, let’s see what he cooks up for breakfast first.”

With a challenging grin Gwaine shut up the book, and made to throw it back across the fire. 

“Hey,” Leon exclaimed, snatching the book from Gwaine grasp, “I wasn’t finished.”

Arthur ignored the obvious taunt from Gwaine and opened his mouth, wanting to protest when Leon opened the book back up, from the beginning this time, and buried his nose in the pages, wandering back over to the solitude of his sleeping bag. 

One by one the men around the fire all followed suit, each bidding their goodnights and turning from the fire, seconding themselves down into their downed sleeping sacks and gently drifting off to slumber. 

Soon it was just Lance, along with Merlin and a still twitchy Arthur, left awake in the clearing. 

“I think that’s my cue as well,” Lance mumbled, standing up and stretching from his seat. “Do you need a hand…” the man asked of Merlin, who shook his head and waved away the man.

“No, no. Go to sleep. Blessed dreams Lancelot.”

“You too Merlin,” Lance smiled, giving Arthur a small nod of acknowledgment before retiring himself.

The remainders of the fire crackled and split easily in the background as the pair sat in silence for a moment. As tired as he had been feeling earlier Arthur felt no urge to sleep. The shadows and sounds of the wild forest sounded conversely wide reaching and too close, pressing in to the clearing on all sides. Wrapping his arms around himself to subdue his shiver Arthur glanced with wide eyes through the cracks in the tree’s not seeing anything but endless dark beyond their branches. 

A log on the fire sounded in a loud crack, startling Arthur. Merlin looked up sheepishly, a stick in his hands prodding at the glowing logs. Arthur let annoyance take over, it was a much better emotion than fear, and scowled at the strange man. 

“Did you at least bring me a toothbrush,” Arthur asked bitingly, forcing his arms to ungather from himself stretching them out stiffly over his knees. 

“Yes,” Merlin rolled his eyes, ”and spare clothes and that odd smelling spray stuff that was on your dresser.”

“You went in my room?” 

“Of course I did,” Merlin scoffed. “How else do you think I got you clean underwear?”

Arthur spluttered at the thought of anyone, let alone someone he had only just met, going through his bedroom drawers. And then Merlin looked up, his eyes sparkling from across the fire with mischief and mirth. 

Whatever look was on Arthur’s face made Merlin chuckle, pushing to stand above the dying warmth of the fire. 

“Come on,” he said, stretching lazily from his crouch, “it’s your bed time too Arthur.”

Arthur thought about arguing, about telling Merlin that even his father had given up trying to tell him to go to bed when he was nine but… maybe he could try to sleep. 

He followed Merlin’s figure the few short paces to where their sleeping sacks lay beside each other around the circle of the clearing. Wordlessly Arthur striped down as much as he dare in the chilling night air and practically jumped under the soft lip of his sleeping bag. 

He heard Merlin’s aborted chuckle but couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed when he was encased in the bags comforting warmth. 

“So,” he spoke after he was sure he was as comfortable as he was going to get, “Gwaine called you ‘Prof’ earlier. Are you?” Merlin shot Arthur a questioning look at the half question. “A professor,” Arthur clarified, looking up at Merlin from his prone position.

“Oh, I was,” Merlin sighed, settling neatly down into his own sleeping sack, “what feels like many lifetimes ago.”

“Used to be?” Arthur snorted. “How old do you think you are?”

The fire light had dimmed down to embers now so Arthur couldn’t see Merlin’s face as he replied, his tone more sombre, more serious than Arthur had ever imagined he could achieve.

“Oh my friend, much older than you could imagine.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Merlin?” Lance called into the forest cautiously, pushing himself slowly to standing. 
> 
> The trees to the right exploded, all men turning quickly to see Merlin staggering through the tree line. 
> 
> “I’m fine,” the man huffed, looking slightly bedraggled. “Um,” he murmured glancing over his shoulder to the trees and shadows beyond, running a twitching hand through his hair dislodging the twigs sticking from the raven mess. “Perhaps we should start moving on… quickly.”
> 
> That was then punctuated with another loud screech coming from an indeterminable distance through the trees.

Arthur awoke the next morning to a loud crash and scramble. He snapped from his dream and the odd hazy image of a large Dragon looming overhead evaporated in the morning air. His hand automatically jumped to his waist where a large gleaming sword had rested in his dream. Opening his eyes, the morning light filtered through the trees above him, lighting the huddle of men already sat up and in various states of wakefulness throughout the clearing.

The sound echoed through the forest again, like a small explosion, its shock waves ruffling the leaves all around them.

“Merlin?” Lance called into the forest cautiously, pushing himself slowly to standing. 

It wasn’t until then that Arthur noticed a missing member in the clearing. His eyes automatically zeroed in on the empty sleeping bag next to his, its top flap pushed back messily, the blue polyester material crumbled on the ground. Arthur was on his feet before he knew it, his own eyes scanning the surrounding tree line for a glimpse of the wandering idiot in their midst. 

The trees to the right exploded, all men turning quickly to see Merlin staggering through the tree line. 

“I’m fine,” the man huffed, looking slightly bedraggled. “Um,” he murmured glancing over his shoulder to the trees and shadows beyond, running a twitching hand through his hair dislodging the twigs sticking from the raven mess. “Perhaps we should start moving on… quickly.”

That was then punctuated with another loud screech coming from an indeterminable distance through the trees. Jumping, all the men dove for their bags, hastily shoving their things haphazardly into the small containers. Leon stamped out the fire, Elyan shoved his sleeping bag away and Percival gathered up the left over plates, each man moving wordlessly with his own purpose.

Arthur stood at the side, watching this organized chaos with his heart beating ever more rapidly in his chest. Inexplicably Arthur turned to where Merlin was scrambling, looking helplessly for direction. 

“Oh, morning Arthur,” Merlin greeted breathlessly, jumping over the dead fire towards his own bags. “Did you sleep well?”

“Let’s do pleasantries later,” Lance huffed, materializing at Merlin’s side and taking over the man’s reckless packing. “You get Arthur’s.”

Merlin had his arms full with Arthur’s unpacked sleeping bag and an assortment of other strange implements when the screech sounded again. It was difficult to determine the distance but Arthur could have sworn it sounded closer. 

Merlin’s face snapped towards the side of the clearing and stood up quickly, lifting his knee to keep Arthurs half packed bag in his clutch. 

“Come on then!” he shouted with a grin directed at Arthur. “Let’s get to the horses!” 

A large hand, belonging to Percival, grabbed at Arthur’s arm and then they were all hobbling through the trees to where the horses had been tethered. Gwaine and Lance trailed behind with Merlin, the three of them simultaneously packing and fleeing. 

Before long Arthur was stood before Hengroen who looked back at him with impatience. Even though Arthur had ridden safely the day before - no injuries save for a sore bottom - the beast was still imposing and standing tall before him. 

“No time for that,” Merlin called hastily, his manic grin still in place, “up you go.”

Then Arthur squawked as a pair of hands landed with a smack on his behind and pushed him up, his leg swinging of its own accord over Hengroen’s saddle until he was sat up on the horses back. Arthur’s eyes, still wide and incredulous from the affront to his personal boundaries, stared down at Merlin, opening his mouth to tirade. 

Merlin, the idiot, gave Arthur a manic smile and heartily patted Hengroen’s hind leg and the horse shot off, the velocity of which caused Arthur to snap his mouth shut and fling himself forward, grappling his hands widely for the horses reigns as he hurtled through the trees. 

He could hear the footfalls of horses behind him and see Leon riding up ahead, looking far more composed and graceful on his beast’s back than Arthur felt. 

Once their pace had slowed down to something much more sedate Merlin appeared at the side of the group, his horse trotting along neatly as if nothing had happened. 

Arthur felt decidedly less composed, his hair no doubt an impressive display of dishevelled, his face most probably as white as his knuckles where they gripped the reign too tightly. Arthur took a moment to get his breath back and then glared at the man in question. “What was that?”

Merlin glanced furtively over his shoulder. “Oh, um, probably just a pheasant.”

“A large one,” Gwaine mumbled.

Then Merlin grinned and the pair burst into hearty chuckles. Arthur frowned back and forth between the two, confusion and frustration bubbling in his gut. 

“Ignore them,” Lance muttered, pulling his horse up beside Arthur. Arthur looked ahead to where Gwaine and Merlin were now riding side by side, talking animatedly. “They both have an odd sense of humour. I would worry if you did get it.”

Arthur snapped his gaze away from the pair, where Gwaine had thrown his head back in a full blown laugh at whatever Merlin was saying. “Why would I be worried?” he snapped at the man. 

Lance’s gaze back was a little too soft, a little too compassionate to alleviate Arthur’s mood but he bit his tongue against it and gently squeezed his heels against Hengroen’s back pushing her forward a little. 

*

That day was more of the same; more trees, more riding, more jokes at various peoples expense. Arthur kept his gaze ahead, on the trees and the scenery around him. Already he could feel its green hues filling his mind with stories to write. But every time he looked across to where Gwaine and Merlin had ridden side by side for most of the day his chest squirmed uncomfortably…. Which was ridiculous. He wasn’t jealous that Gwaine and Merlin were close, he didn’t care that they could laugh as easy together as two men who had known each other their whole lives, but he didn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand how seemingly sensible men, men with real lives and real jobs unthinkingly followed this odd ball of a man; a mystery wrapped in worn flannel. 

The evening was also much of the same; Merlin called out to the group that they were stopping, coming across a space clear of too many trees. The horses were tethered a short distance away and they set up ‘camp’ and Arthur came to the founded opinion that adventures, were in fact, quite boring. 

Gwaine had forced Merlin down onto a log when the man tried to get up to collect firewood. With a small glance between the two Lance gave a nod and headed out between the trees into the forest beyond. Arthur stood fidgeting on the edge of the clearing and looked back to the group at its centre; Leon, Elyan and Percival laughing about something and Gwaine poking at Merlin. Then he looked at the trees where Lance had disappeared. It only took a moment to for his feet to follow. 

It wasn’t difficult to find Lance, the trees surrounding them were not very dense, he could see the man’s hunched form, crouching down to the scattered branches around his feet. 

Arthur’s approach wasn’t stealthy or silent, his large feet crunching against the early fallen leaves and twigs. Lance looked up and offered nothing more than a small but genuine smile as he carried on his chore. Feeling slightly stupid standing there watching Arthur himself crouched, gathering what his inexperienced eyes told was an alright looking twig. 

“See if you can find some Birch,” Lance murmured. Arthur looked up from the log in hand to the man. “We can use the bark for kindling.”

“Right,” Arthur muttered, dropping the log back to the ground and looking around the floor. Silence hung between them for a while, marred by the snapping and crunching of twigs under Arthur’s feet. Lance didn’t seem to have that problem, his legs seeking out the most silent patches of ground before resting his weight there softly. 

“Have you known Merlin for long?” Arthur asked, the question just popping from his lips, his eyes carelessly scanning the ground in search of this ‘Birch’. 

Lance didn’t look up, as if he had been waiting for some kind of question. “That depends?” he shrugged. 

Arthur abandoned his ridiculous act of looking for firewood, he had no idea what he was doing and this was far more interesting. “On what?”

“Many things,” Lance replied with a strange smile. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem awfully laid back about this ramble through the forest,” Arthur explained, leaning his weight against the tree behind him. 

“I trust Merlin.” Lance shrugged, as if that was that, end of story. Arthur couldn’t help the derisive snort that escaped his nose. Lance’s eyes pinged up, a hardness to them for the first time. “I was in Iraq,” the man explained, “the majority of my regiment were killed when we drove over an IED. When I finally got back home, it was to the news that my battalion was to be axed in the first line of military spending cuts. I was injured, homeless, jobless, then Merlin found me. Why wouldn’t I follow him?”

Arthur blinked, and then blinked again but nothing he had experienced in his sheltered life gave him any basis to argue against that. “Well, that is awful.”

“It could have been worse,” Lance said, the hardness falling from his eyes, “I am still here. And now so are you Arthur.”

Lance lifted his gaze, his eyes turning to Arthur and pinning him to the tree at his back. Arthur felt a strange shiver of… fear? Apprehension? Anticipation? Up his spine and straightened. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked warily. 

Lance didn’t answer, he just smiled. 

“Arthur?” a loud voice shouted through the tree’s interrupting the stalemate between the two men. In a similar display to the morning Merlin burst through the tree’s, his eyed slightly deranged and his hair an ever mess of black. “Oh,” the man sighed in relief when he spotted Lance and Arthur amongst the foliage, “there you are. I was worried for a moment.”

Lance’s stance had lost its intense feel at the first sight of Merlin, curving back into relaxed as he straightened the bundle of logs and twigs in his arms. “Just gathering the wood Merlin,” he spoke softly. “Why don’t you relax?” 

Merlin looked quickly to Arthur then the surrounding forestry. “Why don’t you both come back to camp?”

Lance sent Merlin back a look of fond exasperation. “Is Gwaine telling stories again?”

“Gwaine is always telling stories,” Merlin snorted with an eye roll but he didn’t retreat back. He waited, his eyes alert and watching as Lance picked up a few more bits of debris from the floor. Arthur scuffed his foot along the floor self-consciously, wanting to look as if he were helping before following the pair back to camp. 

It seemed Lance’s guess was right; Gwaine stood, leaning one leg upon a fallen boulder, Elyan and Percival watching on in amusement and Leon watched on in resigned exasperation over the top of Arthur’s book which he had barely put down.

“Wait,” Gwaine called on a chuckle when he noticed the trio re-join the group, “Arthur is going to tell us a story, or cook us dinner? What a brilliant housewife he is!”

Arthur huffed, dropping his meagre collection of wood to the side with no doubt in his mind it would be wasted. “And what do you do then?” Arthur said, raising and eyebrow at the grinning man. “What is this manly masculine occupation?”

“Photographer,” Gwaine grinned, dropping himself to a leaning seat against the rock. 

“Really?”

“What?” Gwaine laughed, casting smiling eyes around the rest of the group. “Shocked that I am behind the camera instead in front?”

“And that’s not girly?”

“Dude, I am a fashion photographer. I take photos of half clothed women all day. Can’t get much manlier than that!”

The group broke down into catcalls and chuckles. Before Arthur could scoff he was startled by a small eruption of warmth to his side. He looked to see Merlin straightening back from the now full roaring fire, stretching out his fingers towards its licking flames. 

“How did you do that?”

Merlin looked up at Arthur in confusion. “Do what?”

“Light that fire like that?” Arthur pointed back at the fire, no initial smokes, no growing embers, just wood to burning flames in a few moments. “That’s impossible.”

“Nonsense,” Merlin snorted, “all I did was light a fire Arthur.”

Arthur looked from Merlin to the fire back to Merlin, his eyes cast away into the flames casting his face full of shadows and gold. Arthur looked back to the fire, spreading his hands over the impossible flames, letting the harsh heat seep into his aching fingers, soothing the callouses forming on his pads. 

*

Arthur woke with the sun that morning, easy and calm as his body came to wakefulness bit by bit until his was stretching inside his sleeping bag, feeling his aching joints and muscles pop and click. He was hardly the first to rise, the fire was already playing host to Leon and Merlin’s quiet conversation. The others joined them in due time, all feasting tiredly on a breakfast of sachet porridge. 

“These are great!” Merlin exclaimed with a mouth full. “I can’t tell you how amazing these are. There were so many times that they would have been so useful!”

Arthur tried to hold his tongue, he really did, but he caught another look at Merlin’s indigested over boiled breakfast goop. “Merlin,” Arthur sighed his eyes closed in a grimace, “please swallow before opening your mouth. You’re eating like a peasant.”

Arthur’s aches had all merged into one overnight, no longer being able to distinguish between where the ache in his shoulders began and the throb in his back ended. But… and as strange as Arthur found it… it was now a surprisingly satisfying pain, a pain of hard work and labour, not something Arthur had ever experienced too much in his life. There had obviously been the requisite rugby matches at school to prove his worth and spring in the garden was quite hard work, but in these passed two very physical days he was discovering muscles groups he didn’t know even existed. 

Arthur found himself beside Merlin as they began to set up for their departure, much more sedately than the morning before. It took a moment for Arthur to realize that the low humming sound he could hear was coming from the man at his side, an odd mellow tune escaping from his closed smiling mouth, quiet with an air of complete satisfaction. 

“You’re really not going to tell us where we are going?” Arthur asked. 

Merlin turned from his absent stare at the saddle he was adjusting to Arthur. He eyed Arthur with contemplation and Arthur did his very best not to squirm. 

“Alright then, see up there,” Merlin lifted his hand aloft slotting in behind Arthur to point along his eye line to the horizon. Arthur followed the trajectory of the pale arm in his eye line forward, through the slightly misted morning and up above the tree line ahead to the mossy peaks of rock protruding on the horizon. Arthur tried to focus, to see where else Merlin might be pointing but the man’s hand never wavered. 

“The Mountain?” Arthur asked incredulously, feeling the early morning damp seeping into his clothes making him shiver as he stood. “You want to climb a mountain?”

“No,” scoffed Merlin, rolling his eyes and retreating, “don’t be silly. We are going through the mountain.”

“Oh yes,” Arthur spoke to no one in particular as everyone moved on and away from their camp site. “How silly of me.”

Arthur mounted his own horse, Hengroen only shifting slightly under his touch, and gazed fretfully up at the grey, stone mountain peering out of the trees up ahead. Clouds circled its icy peek, curling and clinging to the tall rocky face with ease. Percival’s call for him up ahead snapped his gaze away and Arthur pushed Hengroen into a trot to catch up with the group, but the shadow of the lonely mountain stayed in his peripheral, its protruding presence undeniable.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why am I here?” he asked, his voice slurred with sleep and drink. “Why did you bring me?”
> 
> Merlin paused in the door frame, silhouetted against the lit corridor. “When you are ready you will know.”
> 
> “What does…” Arthur screwed his eyes up against the frustration. “That doesn’t even make any sense.” 
> 
> “It will.”
> 
> “You speak in riddles you know.”
> 
> “I inherited it,” Merlin shrugged. “Can’t help it.”
> 
> Arthur huffed and turned onto his favoured sleeping side. “You’re an idiot.” 
> 
> And just like that Arthur fell asleep to the serenading sound of Merlin’s gentle laughter.

They rode again that day, the trees around them thinning as they reached the outer edge of the forest. The terrain also changed, the soft mossy effect of the floor making way for more rocks, denser dirt and rough bushes. Trees thinned out to expose large expanses of dark shrubs. This openness would have been refreshing after so long amongst trees if it weren’t for the darkening clouds looming overhead.   
And soon enough, just before midday, the heavens opened. 

Without the full cover of trees above him Arthur was drenched in seconds, his light waterproof jacket did nothing against the barrage of water pouring down from the sky. But they pushed onwards, no joyful conversation bouncing between the men. Even if the mood had called for it voices could not be heard over the hammering of rain onto the sodden ground. 

“Er, Merlin?” Leon shouted up ahead. Merlin turned his head from the head of the pack. He looked ridiculous with his hair plastered slickly to his head with rain, droplets clinging to his eyelashes and dropping off the end of his nose. But his face still blossomed with a smile as he turned at Leon’s call. “Don’t you think we should stop?”

Gwaine irritably pushed his soaking hair from his face, Percy tried to make himself as small a target as possible, tucking his chin down into his jacket, Elyan pulled up his hood hiding his scowling face from view, even Lance looked as though his sunny exterior was degrading, minute by sopping minute. 

“I thought we could push on for the day,” Merlin shouted back above the din, “there is somewhere we can stay up ahead.”

“Indoors?” Elyan asked, daring to peek out from under his synthetic hood. 

“Yes,” Merlin chuckled, his cheeks sharpening from the smile, “somewhere indoors.”

Arthur joined in the chorus of whoops and exclamations and felt slightly better know that he wasn’t the only one longing for a soft bed beneath his back and a roof overhead. 

They all pushed forward rather more intently after that, following Merlin along the rocky pathways leading up and away from the woods, the seemingly endless green of fields pushed out from either side of them. 

Steam was puffing from each man’s own mouth as well as their horses when they crested the hill well past lunch. Arthur’s stomach growled and grumbled incessantly but he swallowed down its protests with the thought of warm food, central heating and a hot bath. 

“There we are!” Merlin called pointing his white and wet hand down to the valley below them. 

The small rocked pathway they were on curled down the other side of the hill, twisting back and forth among the bushes and boulders to the centre of a valley, large hills bracketed it on both sides. And there, in the centre of rocks and grass, stood one lone house, a curl of smoke erupting from its chimney. 

They made their descent carefully, leading the horses over the easiest paths. As they neared the warm and welcoming light at the end of a wet and miserable day Arthur could see the small stone building coming closer. The light stone walls and small windows reminded him of the local country pub. 

When they finally arrived at their destination each man jumped down from their horses. Arthur followed their lead as they all walked their horses to a small wooden roofed shelter off to the side. 

“There,” Merlin sighed as he tied his horse to a peg in the wooden walls. “They should be happy in here for the night.” He turned and smiled at Arthur warmly. “Well,” he raised an eyebrow, “don’t you want to get inside?”

Arthur nearly cried in relief when he opened the door of the building to a small room, littered with mismatched wooden chairs and tables, but most importantly, a roaring fire at the end of the room. 

“Warmth,” Elyan almost sobbed as he stumbled in behind Arthur, doggedly pushing past Arthur’s stationary form and making a beeline toward the fireplace. Arthur followed eagerly, tearing his wet gloves off with his teeth until his cold and damp fingers could feel the scorching heat of the fire, along with the cold tip of his nose. 

Arthur felt no shame or hesitancy forcing his body in between Percival and Leon’s towering forms, securing his own spot right before the hearth. 

Merlin was the last of them inside, the door swinging creakingly shut in his wake. 

“Mary!” the young man called. Arthur belatedly noticed a round woman entering the small room through an equally small wooden doorway to the left. 

“Merlin dear,” she smiled, coming up to hug Merlin warmly. “It has been too long.”

“Much too long,” Merlin agreed pulling back from the embrace. “I have some guests with me tonight, we were hoping for a room to stay in.”

“Of course Merlin, anything for you.”

Merlin looked over to the huddle of men fixed before the fire. Arthur wondered what sight they made. He knew his nose would be red from the cold, his hair sopping, with three days’ worth of stubble growing roughly on his cheeks. Whatever Merlin saw made him smile that odd smile of his, slightly sad, slightly fond. He glanced under his eyelashes back at their host, scratching at the back of his head. 

“Um… We’ll leave them to de-ice a bit first.” 

Mary chuckled kindly and pulled a discarded towel from her shoulder where it hung. “Come on then dear,” she spoke kindly to Merlin, placing an arm around his shoulders, “to the kitchen with you. Work your magic with my oven and your board will be free.”

*

None of the men spoke more than a few words as they huddled around the hearth and allowed its gentle heat to sooth their aching limbs and chilled hands. It seemed like only a few minutes had passed before Merlin was backing out of the wooden door through which he had disappeared, a huge cauldron-like pan in his hands. 

“Dinner is served!” he called, placing the huge pot onto the biggest table in the room. Arthur and the rest of the men moved in like locust, grabbing plates and spoons and ladling heaps of the pans contents into their plates. Arthur was sure that if he had been watching himself from afar he would be disgusted with the behaviour, but his stomach growled and the scent of warm food triggered something primal in him. 

“Meet your approval?” Merlin asked from over Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur had to make a concerted effort to pause in shovelling the hearty stew into his mouth and swallowed before responding. 

“Not bad Merlin,” he nodded. “Definitely passable.”

“High praise indeed,” Merlin chuckled coming to sit on the rickety wooden chair beside him. 

“Here! A round on the house for old friends,” Mary called, placing a tray of flagons on the table before them which was met with cheers from the men. 

“I think I am in love good woman.” Gwaine gushed, grabbing at the nearest tankard. 

“Easy now handsome,” Mary chuckled, giving Gwaine a pat on the back. “Just drink your ale or my husband will be out for blood. Now Merlin, can I leave you in charge of this rowdy lot?”

“Yes ma’am,” Merlin smiled up at Mary easily as she disappeared from the room once more. Merlin turned his smile on Arthur, who had been watching him lazily. “Don’t let it go to waste.” Merlin nodded at the last tankard left on the table. 

Arthur looked into to the pint of amber liquid before him. He hadn’t had a good glass of ale in years, much preferring his wine collection of an evening at home. At the table beside him Elyan and Percival had set up a dice game with Lance watching on eagerly, his drink of ale in hand. Not wanting to miss out Arthur took a gulp, letting the warm liquid slide down his gullet and mix pleasingly with the stew in his belly. 

“Good?” Merlin asked. Arthur answered with a belch that earned a chuckle from Merlin and a cheer from Gwaine. 

When came to Arthur’s turn on the dice he was up against Percival. Arthur wasn’t much of a gambler and hadn’t placed a bet since he had been old enough to boycott his Father’s yearly pilgrimages to Royal Ascot but apparently he had excellent skill at rolling dice. 

He managed to beat Percival, Elyan, Leon, Lance and Gwaine is straight sets and was feeling rather pleased with himself… that was until he went up against Merlin. 

If Arthur hadn’t just played five rounds with these very die he would have sworn the cubes were weighted but as he stared down at the double six showing face up on the dice again his bet was either placed on magic or unbelievable luck. 

“That’s impossible!” he cried, glaring up at Merlin. The man just smiled back, chuckling ruefully. 

“Perhaps I am just lucky Arthur?” he said with a twinkle in his eye. 

Arthur laughed in spite of himself. “Ok,” he declared, “best out of seven.”

Soon enough Merlin had crushed all of the combatants and was being paraded around the room on Percival’s shoulders. Arthur laughed along with the rest of the men, clapping and cheering as Gwaine and Elyan broke into an old folk song. 

Only one of their group wasn’t joining in. Frowning Arthur peered around the peripherals of the room to see Leon sat on his own by the fire. 

“Leon?” Arthur said, coming to sit in the chair opposite his before the fire. “Are you alright?”

When Leon looked up Arthur could see the sheen of tears over his slightly unfocused eyes. “How could you do it?” Leon hiccupped, staring at Arthur forlornly. “How could you do that to Merriweather, you just… just took away all he loved. I-“

It took Arthur a moment to realise what Leon was talking about, that was until he saw the copy of his book in the man’s hands. 

“I mean – you can’t just leave it there right?” Leon asked imploringly. “You’re going to write a sequel aren’t you?”

In truth Arthur hadn’t considered writing a sequel to the book. He felt the ending was well rounded and the reactions he received from it generated discussion, which generated circulation. But looking at Leon’s drunken wet eyes he just couldn’t bring himself to say so. 

“Um, sure… Of course I am Leon.” 

“Oh thank gods,” Leon whispered, his shoulders slumping in relief. “I just couldn’t imagine that being it… everyone died…”

“Well we wouldn’t want old Merriweather to be alone now would we?” Arthur asked good naturedly smiling at Leon’s relieved face. 

Merlin materialised as if from nowhere, causing Arthur to jump slightly as he placed a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder. 

“Hi Leon, you OK?” the man asked, looking back and forth between Arthur and Leon, his concerned eyes sparkling with amusement at the man’s state. 

Leon just sniffed and nodded in response. 

“Do you think maybe it is time for you to go to bed?”

Leon nodded again as he allowed Merlin to gently pull him to standing. He stumbled as he got upright, his weight falling onto Merlin’s shoulders who took it with ease. After a couple of faltering steps Leon turned blearily to Arthur once more.

“You really will write that sequel won’t you?”

“Of course,” Arthur answered good naturedly. “As long as I survive this insanity without any frostbite!”

That seemed to placate the man who nodded once more and allowed Merlin to manoeuvre him out of the room and up the staircase to the bedrooms above. 

After Gwaine’s joyous cry of ‘Jager Bombs!’ the night became fragmented and fuzzy for Arthur too and he soon found himself being supported up those same narrow wooden stairs leading to the Inn’s rooms upstairs. 

“Gods Arthur,” Merlin grunted from underneath his arm as the man tried to help Arthur’s unstable frame up the narrow space. “I knew you were a hermit but I didn’t think you’d forgotten how to take your drink entirely.”

Arthur’s head nodded languidly in agreement but soon enough he forgot what it was he was agreeing too, his head now just lolling back and forth on his rubbery neck. 

“You say my name a lot,” Arthur slurred as they reached the top of the stairs, stumbling on the now flat floorboards. 

“You are drunk Arthur,” Merlin grunted under the weight of Arthur’s body. 

“See! You did it again” Arthur exclaimed, his arms flopping uncooperatively as he tried to gesticulate. 

“So I did… huh. Maybe I just like saying your name.”

“Your odd,” Arthur huffed. 

He felt Merlin’s chuckle rather than heard it as it reverberated through the man’s strong chest that Arthur was leaning against. “I’ve heard that before,” Merlin mused. 

Arthur squawked as he felt himself being unceremoniously tipped backwards. He flailed for a moment until he realised he was now lying on a bed. A very soft and comfortable bed. He felt his walking boots being removed, each lace being expertly untied and then a blanket was thrown over his splayed body. Cocooned in warmth Arthur curled onto his side, bringing the blanket around him. 

He opened his eyes just enough to make out Merlin’s shadowed outline in the doorway as the world tilted and spun around him. 

“Why am I here?” he asked, his voice slurred with sleep and drink. “Why did you bring me?”

Merlin paused in the door frame, silhouetted against the lit corridor. “When you are ready you will know.”

“What does…” Arthur screwed his eyes up against the frustration. “That doesn’t even make any sense.” 

“It will.”

“You speak in riddles you know.”

“I inherited it,” Merlin shrugged. “Can’t help it.”

Arthur huffed and turned onto his favoured sleeping side. “You’re an idiot.” 

And just like that Arthur fell asleep to the serenading sound of Merlin’s gentle laughter. 

*

Arthur woke from a deep sleep, his disturbed slumber had been full of battles and anguish and betrayal leaving him with that feeling that he had not fully rested. Slowly he inched open his eyes and stared at the aged wood beams overhead, stark against the white washed ceiling in between, cast bright in the morning sunlight coming through his small window. 

Sinking further into the comfortable mattress beneath him he stretched out his legs, frowning when his legs stuck off the bottom of the mattress. It was then that he remembered that this wasn’t his bed and this roof was not the roof of his own home. 

It only took another second before the memories of the past few days (in particular the heavy night of drinking before) rushed over him, bringing with it a hangover the likes of which he had not felt since his university days. 

Groaning he rolled onto his side, arm flung over his head in attempt to block out the previously pleasant sunlight which now felt like daggers being gouged into his eyeballs. 

“Morning!” 

Arthur’s door was swung open without warning, banging against the wooden wall with a thump that sent a thrum of pain through Arthur’s skull. 

“Argh” Arthur grumbled, turning away from the grinning man now stood in his doorway. “Merlin, go away.”

“Now that is no way to talk to your friend.” 

“It’s the way to talk to an idiot. Now go away and leave me to die.” Arthur pulled the blanket covering him up over his head and heard Merlin’s booted feet stepping further into the room

“Oh I could never do that,” Merlin’s voice spoke softly and then, without warning, Arthur’s blanket was torn from his grasp and the light pierced his closed eyelids even more fiercely than before. He let out a strangled cry, trying to shield himself from the glare of the sun that intensified tenfold as Merlin threw open the curtains. 

“The rest of them are all downstairs,” Merlin called over his shoulder as he threw clothes from Arthur’s pack in the direction of the bed. “Get dressed and I will make you something to make you feel better.”

*

“Alright you lily livered bunch of prats!” Merlin called with unnecessary volume at the breakfast table. Arthur wanted to groan and clutch at his head; Elyan seemed to give into that urge cradling his head against the rough wooden table. “We’ve got work to do today, normally I would just let you fester in your own misery to teach you some well-earned lessons on the perils of drinking but, seen as some of you never learn that lesson well,” Merlin broke off with a glare in Gwaine’s direction who somehow summoned the strength to grin back beneath his waxy pallor, “then I will give in this once.”

He passed around the group, handing each man a small vile of greenish liquid. Just the sight of it made Arthur’s stomach turn.

“Gods Merlin,” Gwaine groaned as he sniffed his open vial. “Does it have to smell like that?”

“No,” Merlin shrugged as he handed the last vial to Lance. “I add the scent. It’s part of your penance. Now down the hatch!”

Arthur eyed the gloopy green mixture in his vial with unease. It truly smelt awful and seemed to move of its own accord within its glass container. But, he mused, he had come this far and truly how much worse could he feel?

“Screw it,” he muttered, tipping his head back and throwing the contents of the container down his throat. 

The liquid had the consistency of bread soaked in water and his throat convulsed, attempting to bring the foreign substance back up. But Arthur swallowed determinedly, not wanting to taste the concoction a second time on its way back up. His stomach gurgled and churned, making Arthur clasp an arm over his belly. It continued until he felt as if he were going to explode and then his body exploded with the largest and longest fart he had ever done. 

Shock and embarrassment burst onto his face as he looked around the group of men in the room who were all watching him with wide eyes and then promptly fell in fits of laughter. 

“Feel better now Arthur?” Merlin asked with a twinkle in his eyes. 

Arthur opened his mouth to respond with a nasty retort to cover up his embarrassment and then realised that his headache was completely gone. He shut his mouth and frowned, gingerly moving in his seat. His aching limbs had now ceased and the fuzzy feeling behind his eyes had disappeared too. 

“Um,” he mumbled mentally exploring every inch of his body, only to find that; “Yes. I feel great!”

Merlin gave him an approving nod and the rest of the men took Arthur’s lead in swallowing down their own vials. Soon the room was full of the sound and smell of the other five men almost simultaneously letting wind causing Merlin and Arthur to gag and quickly escaped through the front door into the blessed fresh air, hooting with laugher all the way. 

Once breakfast was completed, and it was safe to go back inside, the group packed their things quickly and congregated in the yard of the Inn, gathered their horses, and were off. Mary was there waving at them as they made their way up the stony valley side, towards the looming mountain above. When they reached the crest of the hill Arthur turned once and offered one small wave and goodbye to the charming little place that had been their refuge for the night. He distantly saw Mary’s far away figure wave and retreat back into through the small wooden door. 

Arthur wasn’t sure whether it was a trick of the light, or if they had finally ventured too far away for him to see clearly, but as soon as the wooden door closed behind Mary’s retreating form and Arthur blinked the small stone cottage disappeared.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur opened his mouth. Then closed it quickly. The sight before him was so foreign, so ridiculous so… impossible that all Arthur could do was stare for a minute. 
> 
> “There is sword in that stone,” he spoke after a moment, his voice slightly weak in disbelief.
> 
> “I know!” Merlin exclaimed. “It was my idea first!”

Onward they climbed throughout the day, the wind growing stronger the further up the mountain path they ventured, their conversation and jests running freely between them all. When the path started to become too narrow Merlin halted his horse and jumped down. The rest followed suit, tying the horses to a nearby tree. 

“We can leave our packs here too,” Merlin called. “It’s not much further up ahead; we can be back by nightfall.”

The air was filled with the sound of relieved groans as each man unloaded their packs from their backs onto the hard ground. Arthur felt slightly uncomfortable now that he had not been carrying anything but followed Merlin as he led the way up the narrowing mountain path. 

The grey trails of the mountain were a stark contrast the greenery they had trekked through so far. They were hard and cold and unforgiving. As they reached higher up the mountain face the men huddled back into the rock face trying to escape the blundering winds from battering at their bodies. It was no use of course; the wind came at them from all angles. 

Conversation stopped as each man huddled down into their coats, trying to protect their necks and mouths from the chill. Arthur felt thoroughly miserable, and only the promise of shelter up ahead kept him going, his fingers were numb, his eyes dry from the harsh windows and his lips chapped. 

But on they clambered for most of the day. The sun had settled behind the mountain, casting the group into its shadow bringing with it a harder chill that seeped down into Arthur’s bones. 

Arthur didn’t know how much time had passed before he bumped into the stationary back of Lance in front of him. Murmuring his apologies he looked over the man’s shoulder to see Merlin stood with his hands on his hips, seemingly unaware of the blistering wind battering at them from all angles. 

The young man frowned at the rock face, peering closely at its rough surface. “Here,” Merlin murmured, now running his hands over the stone. “It’s somewhere… Ah! Here.”

Arthur looked at the smooth face of rock before them and then back at Merlin. The man was clearly insane. Arthur glanced back down the mountain, mentally calculating how far it would be if he just gave up and ran all the way home. 

“Arthur? You coming?”

Arthur looked back forward to find only Leon stood there on the path. Frowning he took a few hasty steps forward and saw that where there had been a solid section of rock face before…. For he was sure it had been just rock… now stood a tall archway, beyond which a tunnel grew leading far back into the depths of the mountain. 

Inside the entrance to the mountain Merlin plucked an old wooden fire torch from a bracket easily hanging to the rock face, its wrought iron design something more akin to a medieval castle to a rugged mountain in the north. Elyan leant forward with his lighter, flicking the wheel until the torch flamed with life. 

Its orange light bounced off the grey walls around, showing the tunnel ahead, leading downwards, the winding path creeping around the corner and out of sight. 

“Well,” Merlin mumbled shifting his shoulders. “Let’s go!”

Their footsteps echoed with each move forward, bouncing back from the damp rocks surrounding them. Merlin held his flame lit torch aloft, high enough to illuminate the uneven ground below them as each man stumbled forward unsteadily in the darkness. 

Soon the path before them opened out, the rocky walls spreading into a cavernous room. The fire light in Merlin’s hand spread out through the space, its orange light bouncing from odd places along the walls. Arthur squinted into the dimness, trying to determine what was before them. 

Suddenly light flared, Arthur jumped and looked back to see Merlin touching his torch to sticks bracketed to the ancient stone walls. Arthur opened his mouth to make some sort of comment on that when an awed muttering behind him paused his mouth. 

“Wow,” Elyan sighed. The man stepped past Arthur, their shoulders brushing. Turning Arthur got a better look of the room and mentally echoed Elyan’s sentiment. 

It was like something from a pirate novel; chests and gold and jewels lay along every wall of the cavern, red rubies, clear diamonds, yellow gold in coins and jewellery lay haphazardly and lazily upon piles of scrolls and books, their edges curling and yellowing with age. 

“Awesome,” Percival’s voice whispered. Arthur turned his stunned gaze to the left to see the large man picking up a large and ornate axe from between a half opened chest and what seemed to be the remnants of a suit of armour. Hefting the axe into the air as if it weighed nothing, Percival held it aloft, juggling its weight in his hands as if getting a feel for it. 

“It suits you,” said Merlin, watching Percival with something akin to pride. 

“Now this is more like it.” Arthur turned to see Gwaine fishing a long sword from behind a pile of pearls and crowns, its polished hilt, much too shiny to be abandoned in an old crypt, flickered in the fire light. 

Elyan seemed to have found a similar trinket and Leon was frowning quizzically at what looked like a crossbow. 

Arthur milled quietly at the side of the cavern taking in the sight. It was absurd, impossible that this cove of treasure could sit here, in the rocky face of a mountain, without it being discovered. As Arthur looked around at the cases of jewels and gold and scrolls and ancient weapons his spine tingled against the images. These artefacts, these treasures shouldn’t be holed away from the world; they should be on display, sat proud for the world to see. Surely a museum or-

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice spoke up from the shadows of the cave. Arthur blinked away to see the man stood, his flaming torch still in hand, at the far right side of the space. With a tilt of his head Merlin beckoned Arthur over and with one last glance at the enthralled men scattered around the walls examining their finds Arthur moved forward, following Merlin into the shadows. Arthur trailed Merlin’s lead through a small archway within the rock walls which led them downwards on a few uneven steps and then the walls around them spread out again, this time into a smaller cavern. 

Squinting his eyes against the gloom Arthur could not see any treasures adorning these rocks, the room seeming completely bare. 

“Really,” Merlin murmured from his stand before Arthur in the mouth of the entrance, “how unoriginal!”

Frowning, Arthur peered over Merlin’s shoulder to the centre of the space, to where Merlin’s furrowed brow was shooting an annoyed look… to where a large rock protruded from the stone floor. To where a sword stuck from its grey surface. 

Arthur opened his mouth. Then closed it quickly. The sight before him was so foreign, so ridiculous so… impossible that all Arthur could do was stare for a minute. 

“There is sword in that stone,” he spoke after a moment, his voice slightly weak in disbelief.

“I know!” Merlin exclaimed. “It was my idea first!”

Arthur turned his wide eyes from the shiny metal hilt and frowned at Merlin, his hand pointing wildly at the sight. “Why is there a sword in that stone?”

Merlin blinked from his frown. “For someone to pull out,” he replied blandly, his face straightening out into bafflement that someone would ask such a seemingly obvious question.

Arthur felt the familiar bubble of annoyance and consternation, that he felt at most times around Merlin, rise easily to the surface again. 

“Jeez,” Percival’s voice echoed form behind him. Turning, Arthur saw the rest of the group slowly descending from the main cavern, their eyes all equally wide and disbelieving as they looked upon the sight before them.

“Well,” Merlin said. Arthur looked back to see Merlin staring at him expectedly, a glimmer of excitement in his voice. “Go on then.”

Arthur stared back with confusion; it must have shown on his face as Merlin gave a little nod towards the absurdity at the centre of the space. It didn’t immediately click for Arthur, who took a few more volleying glances between Merlin’s expectant face and the inert, stationary sword in the stone, but when it did all finally slot into place Arthur’s eyes widened in shock.

“You want me to pull it out?”

“We all have our weapons,” Merlin shrugged easily. “It seems you are the only one in need. So…”

Arthur quickly bit back the retort of asking after Merlin’s sword but magnanimously decided that there was more pressing and tenacious craziness’ to address at that moment. He gesticulated wildly back at the rock. “And you think that this weapon is suitable?”

Merlin looked back at the rock and sword, unconcerned and lifted one shoulder. “Seems fine to me.”

“Apart from the fact it is stuck in a base of rock?!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Merlin rolled his eyes and walked closer to the offending item, examining the metal. “I’m sure a good tug will do it. Just give it a pull.”

“You pull it!” Arthur shot back indignantly, striding forward to face Merlin down head on. 

“No you,” Merlin shot back lazily, not even looking up from his inspection.

“You.”

“This is childish.”

“You started it,” Arthur said mulishly, sending the sword a scathing glare. 

“Alright,” Merlin sighed eventually. “Alright if you think you can’t do it then...”

Merlin turned away, walking back to the outer edges of the space, taking his torch with him. Arthur saw him share a look with Gwaine who grinned largely. Arthur could just see the taunt brewing on the end of the man’s tongue. His shoulders rose defensively and in frustration but he wouldn’t be swayed. This was just one step too far. “No one could do it,” Arthur grit out, eyeing the waiting crowd with flinted eyes, “it is an impossible feat.”

Even with his back turned Arthur saw Merlin’s shoulder’s rise and stiffen. The air around Arthur sizzled with unchecked energy, like the night air before a storm. For the first time on this strange trip Arthur felt a thrum of inexplicable fear. The room seemed to halt breathing, each man waiting for the scales to tip, for the dice to fall. And it did, with a large deep breath from Merlin; his shoulder’s rising and falling down quickly. “When are you going to see Arthur,” Merlin said quietly before turning, “that nothing is beyond possibility, just beyond the scope of your imagination.”

His eyes held no anger, no frustration but perhaps, if Arthur looked close enough, a tiredness, deep and long lived. But those blue eyes held Arthur’s seeming to ask him to trust him, the same as they had that night that seemed many years ago, on his reading bench in front of Castle Cottage. 

“Fine,” Arthur snapped eventually, breaking Merlin’s stare, “if it will shut you up, I will try and pull out this damned sword.”

He turned sharply, throwing his back to the waiting audience in the wings. It must have been a trick of the light but the sword seemed all the more daunting in its presentation than it had when Arthur first laid his eyes on it. The strong silver blade stuck straight and strong out from the dark grey rock. The hilt, peeking up from its end like a beacon, shone and glittered in the firelight, its numerous carvings and jewels sending refracted light at odd directions making it seem to shine in the darkness. 

As Arthur took a step forward he imagined he could hear the metal, reverberating and humming like a tuner, its resonance reaching only Arthur’s ears and pulling him forward, step by step, until he was stood before its majestic presence, his hand gripped loosely around its end. 

He swallowed, bracing himself. He could feel the stare of six eyes on his back, their gaze waiting and expectant. It made Arthur’s heart race and his brow sweat. Had this been the grand plan all along? To lure him to a damp cave in an effort to get him to embarrass himself in front of them all? So they could see his face redden when he couldn’t perform this impossible task? And he didn’t care what Merlin claimed; it was impossible. 

Taking his hazing with all the pride he could muster Arthur kept his back straight and tightened his grip, staring straight ahead into the darkness. 

But as hard as his logical mind rallied against the idiotic task he was going to fool himself into attempting a small part, the part that glimmered in waiting, cowed by his cautious nature, sparked in anticipation. 

Arthur took a deep breath, rested his free hand on the rock face and tugged. 

The disappointment when the sword didn’t even move was ridiculous. He knew that nothing would happen. But the reddening in his face was definitely expected as he stepped back from the sword, only turning his head slightly to the man watching. 

“There see,” he murmured, wiping his sweaty palms on his dirty jeans, “it won’t budge.”

“Now Arthur,” Merlin sighed, “you didn’t even try.” Handing the flame to Lance Merlin stepped forward until he was standing beside Arthur, angled towards the sword. “Do it again,” he spoke softly, only for Arthur’s ears, “but believe you can do it. See what happens.”

It was ridiculous, Arthur knew, to think that it was even possible. But even as he turned back to the sword, his eyes falling on the beautifully crafted hilt and shining metal, he swallowed back a feeling of excitement and expectance. His hand wrapped once more around the swords handle, flexing his fingers into the grip. He could feel it still, that reverberation through the metal that now seeped through his hand, up his arm and filled his body with tingling energy. 

“That’s it,” whispered Merlin from his side, too softly for anyone but Arthur to hear. “Can you feel that Arthur? It is calling for you. It’s yours to claim.”

He just sounded so sure, so certain. Arthur had never had such unaltered belief placed on his shoulders and suddenly he wanted to pull this sword from its stone. Not to save his own face but so that he did not disappoint this strange man at his side. 

Arthur closed his eyes, sinking into the feeling of the metal thrumming beneath his hand and imagined holding the sword aloft. In his mind he was at the head of a magnificent army on a battlefield, the sun rising on the crest of the hill behind him haloing him with sunshine. As the crowd before him cheered he felt a presence at his side and he turned to see Merlin stood beside him. Not as he is now with flannel shirt and walking boots, but in dark blue robes of velvet and an ornate white staff in hand. As the man smiled his eyes glowed magnificently gold, as if the power of the sun was sitting within their depths. Arthur felt excitement build inside him and griped the hilt of his sword harder and felt power and electricity running through his veins. He felt invincible, as if the world were at his feet just waiting for him to claim it. With a grumbling roar that started in the earth beneath him he surged forward. 

And then he blinked his eyes open, bringing himself back to the present. 

“Well done Arthur!” cried Leon as Arthur stared with ide eyes at the shining blade now held in aloft in his hands, free of its stone encasement. 

“Brilliant,” crowed Elyan. 

Arthur gazed at the magnificent blade, transfixed by its beauty as each man came to give him a hearty pat on the back and take their own look at the sword. 

He, Arthur Pendragon, the reclusive author who would never travel, hated flying, was scared of heights and got anxious if he ran out of his favourite pens had just pulled a knights longsword from a rock. He almost felt like laughing. Eventually Merlin was before him, his bright blue eyes shiny with warmth and happiness. 

“Here,” Arthur mumbled, forcing his hands to offer the sword to Merlin. 

“No,” Merlin shook his head pushing the blade gently back toward Arthur. “You pulled it out. It is yours.”

“I-” Arthur stammered, holding the heavy blade in his hands and staring down its sharp length. “I don’t know how to use this.”

Merlin shrugged seemingly unconcerned that Arthur was now wielding a deadly weapon. “It last owner was a noble man, he wielded it with courage and mercy. Do the same and you’ll be fine.”

With that Merlin patted him on the shoulder and left to join the rest of them in the main chamber, leaving just Arthur and the sword. Although he could not remember holding a sword like this in his lifetime it somehow felt right and as he adjusted his grip on the hilt he found a position that was comfortable, allowing his wrist to move and his arm to bend without bringing the blade too near his body. 

Realising he was alone he started and made his way up the rugged staircase to the main chamber beyond. 

“I think we have what we came for,” Merlin called as he smiled around the group of men. “Shall we?”

With a jerk of his head everyone began to file from the room, each holding a new treasure. Arthur was last. He passed Merlin with a slight nod of the head which Merlin returned, his eyes sparkling in the firelight. It could have been the orange light of the flame but Arthur recalled his minds fancy as he pulled the sword from the stone and remembered the burning gold eyes that should have frightened him but had instead given him strength. 

His contemplation was broken as Merlin patted him on the back, urging him up the walkway with the rest. “No time for dallying now Arthur.” 

The stone passage seemed a lot shorter on the way out than it had on their way down and in no time Arthur could smell the fresh air and feel the tickling of the breeze on his face. Soon Arthur could see the archway of light ahead, interspersed with the bobbing heads of his companions as they marched single file back out into the world. 

But when he broke free of the mountain and joined his friends on the rocky path he stopped, as they had all done ahead of him, and stared at the woman stood at the start of the trail. She was not dressed for the mountain. Her dark red ball gown was torn at the bottom and her hair was windswept but that didn’t take away from her ethereal beauty. She stood tall and power emitted from her very presence where she stood, barring their way to the single trail that led them down to safety. 

Arthur frowned and turned to see Merlin coming out from the mountain just behind him with a look of resigned annoyance on his face. 

“Nimeuh,” Merlin greeted stiffly. 

“Merlin,” the woman responded, a smirk carefully crafted on her pale face. 

“So…” Merlin shifted in his place, “how are you?” 

The woman, Nimeuh, barked a short laugh and narrowed her eyes back at Merlin. “Small talk Merlin? Really?” 

Merlin shrugged and shifted once more, not so subtly putting himself in front of Arthur. Nimeuh, it seemed, did not miss this and turned her beady eyes to him. Arthur felt himself unconsciously recoil under the cold stare. 

“So the rumours are true. He’s back.”

The skies were darkening overhead, as if expressing the Gods displeasure, and dark clouds were rolling in over the top of the mountain at his back. As with this quest Arthur had found himself on he wasn’t sure if it was his overactive imagination, or the prickle of fear he had felt creep up his spine at the first sight of the women, but the air around him seemed to crackle, thick with an ancient power. 

“We’ve got what we came for,” Merlin said coldly, stepping forward to the downwards pathway and towards Nimeuh. Arthur had an odd urge to grab the scrawny man and pull him back behind Arthur and his sword but he quelled it. “We will be on our way now.”

“And you think I am just going to let you go?” Nimeuh scoffed, taking a countering step towards him. “This is my land Merlin, my territory we settled this centuries ago.”

“And then you stole something that didn’t belong to you, we have it back now and will be on our way.”

“Oh dear,” the woman chuckled darkly. “All these years have not made you any less idiotic.”

“And I see the years have not made you any more sensible,” Merlin countered, his voice steely. “Do not test me.”

An age seemed to pass as the two stared each other down. Arthur’s heart was pounding against his chest and he could feel the waves of anxiety rolling of the men around him, waiting for the next thing on this insane quest to happen. 

Nimeuh broke the thickness first; her step towards Merlin was swift and sure. But as swiftly and surely as she had stepped she was no match for the fork of lightening that spiked down from the dark sky. She was flung sideways, away from the path and collided heavily with the stone face of the mountain side.

“Run!” Merlin’s voice commanded, its rumble in time with the thunderous clouds overhead. 

Arthur was about to protest but another spike of lightening crashed into the mountain side sending a shower of rocks and dust down upon them all. 

“Now!” Merlin’s voice ordered once more. 

Arthur did not have time to look back now as the fabric of his coat was grabbed by Leon, pulling him with the rest of them as they fled the mountainside. Their descent wasn’t graceful. They skidded, ran and fell along the stony path running away from the monstrous storm that seemed to have engulfed the top of the mountain peak. Lightning struck the mountain repeatedly, causing the rock beneath Arthur’s feet the shake and rumble knocking him sideways into the men that ran with him. But they didn’t pause. 

It wasn’t until they finally reached the clearing they had left this morning, and the bright forks of lightening had diminished, that they slowed. 

Arthur stumbled into the clearing, bending over with hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He would have been embarrassed by his lack of stamina had he not heard similar breathing patterns echoed around him as each man tried to gain some equilibrium. 

“Where is Merlin?”

Arthur glanced up to see Lance staring around the clearing, panic growing in his kind eyes. 

“He was right there,” Lance cried. “He was right behind me!”

“Where are our horses?” Elyan asked, also turning in circles. 

Percival bent down to lift a tattered end of a rope from the base of the tree. “Gone.” 

“Merlin!” Gwaine called, heading back to the base of the mountain. “Merlin!”

Leon grabbed the man’s jacket, halting him in his tracks. “No Gwaine, we need to go.”

“I won’t just leave Merlin up there!” 

“That woman could be coming down at any moment, someone has cut our horses free and that storm will be upon us soon. We don’t have a choice. We have to move!”

Gwaine opened his mouth to offer and angry retort but it was cut short when an arrow whizzed through the air, embedding with a ‘thwok’ into the tree truck directly behind Gwaine’s head. It took just two seconds of confused stares at the protruding item and a second arrow hurtling through the air, this time landing into the ground by Elyan’s feet, for them all to catch up. 

“Run!” Elyan cried, running into the trees around them. 

Arthur had barely recovered from their escape from the mountain when Lance grabbed his arm and pulled him along behind as they careened into the trees. 

Arthur had never run like this. When he was a child he surely would have run about and he had participated in the requisite cross country races in school but he had never run like this; with his heart in his mouth and adrenaline pumping through his veins, constantly forcing one foot in front of the other through the constricting pain in his chest as if his life depended on it. 

And as another arrow shot through the foliage around him whipping at his hair Arthur had to concede that perhaps his life were dependant on it. 

It wasn’t long before Arthur realised he was running alone, the shouts and rustling of his companions running alongside him had faded until the forest behind him became silent and still. He stuttered to a stop in a gap amongst the trees, sunlight dappled through the tight leaves above him littering the foliage covered forest floor with patches of light. 

He strained his ears for sound. Sound of running or the sound of arrows but he could hear nothing.   
Slowly the panic, which he had held at bay so far, started to creep into his limbs and he started to shake. The silver sword was somehow still held in his grip. Staring down at the mottled sunlight glinting off the blade Arthur took a deep breath and imagined his body drawing strength from the ancient weapon. It seemed to work as an adrenaline filled calm seemed to take hold of his body allowing him to think. 

He was alone in a forest. Merlin was god knows where. The rest of the men had scattered into the trees. A strange woman had attacked them, a freak thunderstorm taking her down before some unknown foe tried to maim then all with medieval arrows. Arthur had to force down a laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

A rustle in the trees brought him back to his senses and he raised his sword shakily before him. His ears strained forward to hear more but the forest was deadly silent. Still he couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes watching him, peering at his from the dark gaps between the trees. Carefully he took a step back…

And then he felt something tighten around his ankle and the world turned upside down. 

Arthur blinked shaking his head as his blood rushed to his skull. He blinked upwards towards his feet and saw his ankle ensnared in a rope loop that now held him dangling a good two foot from the forest floor. He blinked once more from his topsy turvy view as figures started to emerge from the treeline. 

He only managed to take in the swords belted at their waists before he felt a presence at his back and a sharp blow to his skull and the world turned to black.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Once and Future King.”
> 
> Arthur started at the unexpected voice, his head dipping down below the surface of the water in his shock. He spluttered and gasped turning towards the voice and almost sunk again when he saw its source. 
> 
> A woman, pale and ghostly, inexplicably stood before him on the surface of the dark blue water, her hair and white dress blowing slightly in an invisible breeze. Arthur’s eyes widened in shock but she simply smiled; a beautiful and easy smile that lightened her face and twinkled in her eyes. 
> 
> “It is good to see you on this side of the veil.”
> 
> Arthur opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Pardon?”

When Arthur next blinked his eyes open he was no longer upside down. 

Slowly, as if emerging from water, his consciousness swum to the surface. The ground beneath him was hard and rough. Sharp juts of rock protruded from the ground he was sat on and from the cold surface he was leaning against. He shifted his body and felt rope cut into his wrists. It took a moment for the world to form around him. Shapes and flickering light danced across his vision until it slowly cleared. He was in a cave; at least it looked like a cave. The walls that surrounded him seemed to have been hewn directly from rock and the floor. Arthur wiggled once more feeling the warm surface beside him give. 

“Alright Arthur?” 

Arthur squinted into the darkness to see that the surface next to him wasn’t another rock wall but the solid body of Percival. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the murky darkness he saw Elyan propped up next to Percival. Further across the cave sat Leon, Gwaine and Lance, all in a similar state of ensnarement as he. 

“Well, well, well,” a cold voice came from the depths of the cave and made prickles skitter up Arthur’s neck. The darkness to the right of him suddenly took shape and a figure emerged from the depths of the cave. “This is a fine gaggle to add to my collection.”

As the man stepped closer and into the weak orange light of the lit torches Arthur could see his cold black eyes set into a rough face. Around the man’s shoulder hung a thick fur cape that may have been luxurious and impressive at one time, but now looked aged and dirty. 

Lance struggled fruitlessly against his bounds as he stared the man down. “Where is Merlin?” 

“That is just what I was about to ask you. I can’t believe he would let you out unsupervised. Where is the knat?”

“Well we don’t know,” snarled Gwaine. “So you might as well let us all go eh?”

“I always liked you.” The man ruffled the top of Gwaine’s head. Gwaine growled and jerked his head as far away as he could. That just made the man chuckle darkly once more. With a shrug the man turned away. “Perhaps Nimeuh found him already? I know she has been eager for a reunion.”

“You’re Cendred,” Lance stated, his eyes cold in a way that Arthur had never thought possible. “Merlin warned me about you. We will not surrender to you.” 

At that Cendred chuckled darkly turning his black eyes to Lance. “Oh I would hope not, where would be the fun in that?”

When his dark eyes finally landed on Arthur they glimmered with a strange gleam. Arthur forced himself not to cower away. 

“Arthur,” Cendred murmured. “It has been too long.”

“Um,” Arthur mumbled unintelligently wiggling against his bindings. 

“Untie him,” Cendred barked suddenly into the darkness making Arthur jump, “and give him his sword. We never did get the chance to fight did we? Man to man.”

A scrawny man dressed in tattered clothes sprung out of the murky depth of the cave and came towards Arthur with knife drawn. Arthur tensed waiting for the blow but instead the man grabbed Arthur’s shoulder roughly, pulling him forward and suddenly Arthur felt his wrists spring free. 

Quelling the urge to sigh in relief Arthur settled for tentatively rubbing at the chaffed skin at his wrists. Cendred watched in anticipation, drawing an impressive longsword form the belt at his waist. With a gesture of the blade he bid Arthur to rise. He did so gingerly keeping an eye firmly on the weapon pointed in his direction. 

“I don’t-“ Arthur started, tentatively glancing at the men tied on the ground for help. 

The gleam in Cendred’s eyes turned greedy as he stared upon Arthur and again Arthur had to quell the urge to cringe or cower. Gritting his jaw Arthur forced himself to stand tall, squaring his shoulders under the appraisal. 

Cendred opened his mouth but whatever was about to spill from his lips was cut off when a small man scurried into the cave from the dark opening at the back. 

“Cendred sire,” the man said breathlessly. “Lady Morgause has requested your presence.”

“Can you not see that we have guests?” Cendred said through gritted teeth. “Tell her I am busy”

“She said,” the man started before looking around at Arthur and the men tied still on the ground. “She said it was about Emrys my lord,” he continued a tad quieter. “That he… she really needs to see you.” 

“Fine,” Cendred snarled. “Tell her I will be there in a moment”. With a careless wave of his sword he gestured to Arthur and the men sat in a huddle on the ground. “Take the prisoners to the hall,” he called out to the rabble of men. “I will deal with them later.”

And with a sweep of his dusty cloak he was gone, swallowed back up into the darkness. 

“Come on,” a harsh voice shouted, startling Arthur’s attention back to centre. Rough hands grabbed at Arthur’s shoulders and he stumbled in his haste to obey and move. A cacophony of shouts and curses echoed around him telling him that the rest of his group had not complied with their in instructions to move as readily as he had. 

A sharp point poked him in the back urging him forwards towards the dark end of the cavern and he stumbled forward until the darkness ate him. 

*

Only sporadic flamed torches gave their path any light and Arthur frequently tripped over unseen rocks and dips in the uneven rock floor as they moved deeper into the stone. Each time he stumbled his captor at his back gave him a rather savage poke with the sword and Arthur had to fight down his angry retort. What did the man expect when he was forcing him down a dark pathway? Arthur thanked whatever deity was listening that they had not rebound his hands. 

On they walked through the dark until the claustrophobic blackness of the carved stone tunnels suddenly and abruptly opened. 

Arthur stopped with a gasp as he looked across the dark expanse before him. The rocky floor dropped off in a steep vertical dive just a few meters from where his feet had planted stubbornly in the ground. Across the rocky ravine a rickety wooden bridge had been strung. It creaked and swing with every step the men ahead of him took. Arthur swallowed thickly as his stomach rolled with each sway of the rope and timber conduit. 

A sharp poke in his back drew Arthur back to the present. “Keep moving!” his captors gruff voice demanded, the point of his small dagger poking harshly into Arthur’s spine. 

Arthur stared back at the darkness that sunk deep into the mountain depths. He couldn’t move. 

“I said move!” the captor ordered again, kicking at Arthur’s back. With a pained grunt Arthur’s knees buckled, sending him sprawling to the hard ground. Arthur tried to get his knees underneath him, every instinct he had urging his body to its feet. But another kick came at him connecting hard with his ribs. The wind rushed from his body in a harsh gasp as he fell to the ground once more. Instinctively his body curled in rolling with the power of the blow only stopping when Arthur realised with a shock just how close he was to the edge of the gorge. 

Quickly he attempted to scrabble backwards away from its inky depths but he froze when he felt the cool touch of metal to his throat. 

“One wrong move,” a harsh voice whispered in his ear, “and I’ll slit your throat. Now get up and move.” 

Arthur swallowed around the panic and fear clogging his throat. He needed to get up. He needed to move. But his eyes were blurring with tears and fear shook through his limbs. 

The harsh voice behind him growled in frustration when Arthur did no more than shake and cower. Before Arthur could gather together his words to beg for mercy there was a woosh of air and something hard slammed into the side of Arthur’s skull. 

“Oi!” Arthur distantly heard Elyan’s voice call out and a cacophony of scuffling and yelling filled the spaces between the buzzing in his head. 

Arthur shook his head to try and dislodge the whining whir in his ears and the whiting at the edges of his vision. He tried to see what was going on and find the source of the tumultuous yells that filled the mountain but he could barely get his eyes open. So the boot to his chest came as a surprise. 

With no warning, no balance and waning vision Arthur could do no more than flail backwards from the force of the kick. Arthur braced himself for the harsh impact of his body on the ground and it took a dizzying second of weightlessness for Arthur to realise just how close he had been to the edge of the rocky edge. 

He fell. 

Head over foot he went until he didn’t know which way was up and which was down. He scrabbled as he tumbled, on and on, desperately trying to find footing or at least slow himself down but the stone surface was so smooth and his nails scraped and broke against its rough surface. 

Every bump sent jars of pain through his body as he tumbled and soon his body was just a rolling ball of pain as he careened down the steep stone crevice into nothing. 

Suddenly water rushed up around him and he plunged backwards into an icy cold depth. Disorientated from the fall Arthur swirled and turned, thrashing against the icy water encompassing him. He kicked and tried to swim but he didn’t know which way was up, and under the weight of his clothes and his exhaustion he felt himself failing as the water overcame him. 

And then a blue light permeated through the dark water around him. Arthur swirled, expecting a new foe, only to find a bobbing blue orb floating in the water beside him. Arthur forgot his urgent need to breathe for a moment as he stared into the swirling depths of the mystic light. It was strange but he knew not to be afraid, as if this light were an old friend beckoning him to safety. 

Soon enough the orb began to move upwards. Arthur glanced up and saw the shimmering blue light reflecting off the water’s surface up above, only a few feet upwards. 

With renewed vigour, now knowing which way was up, Arthur kicked and pulled his arms through the freezing water moving slowly upwards. The blue orb crested the surface just a few strokes before him. When Arthur’s head was finally free of the water he threw his head back saturating his lungs with deep gulps of air. 

He floated there for a moment as the blue orb continued serenely upwards. Arthur tracked its movements with blinking eyes as they adjusted to the darkness around him. Slowly his surroundings were revealed as the orb reached its peak and its blue light glittered downwards illumining a cavernous room with walls of steep rising stone on every side of its watery centre. 

Arthur turned fitfully in the water glancing up at each stone face that surrounded him but no matter which way he turned he could not see an exit, let alone a shore. Panic started to inch back into his limbs once more as he turned, his arms slashing at the dark inky surface of the lake. 

“Once and Future King.”

Arthur started at the unexpected voice, his head dipping down below the surface of the water in his shock. He spluttered and gasped turning towards the voice and almost sunk again when he saw its source. 

A woman, pale and ghostly, inexplicably stood before him on the surface of the dark blue water, her hair and white dress blowing slightly in an invisible breeze. Arthur’s eyes widened in shock but she simply smiled; a beautiful and easy smile that lightened her face and twinkled in her eyes. 

“It is good to see you on this side of the veil.”

Arthur opened and closed his mouth a few times. “Pardon?” 

The lady stood magically on the surface of the lake just chuckled. Her airy laugh sounded like bells and she looked down on Arthur treading water below her with a smile. “I meant it is good to see you alive Arthur.”

“Right,” Arthur mumbled, spitting murky water from his mouth. “Um… do you know the way out of here?”

“Yes I do, the question is: are you ready to take it?”

“If it will get me out of this cave then I will take it.”

The blue light still glittered down from the blue orb hovering at the ceiling of the cavern sending its light down onto the surface of the water which shone and rippled around Arthur. In the darkness Arthur saw a figure floating on the surface of the lake and fear clenched in his chest. 

The lady on the lake stepped forward, her bare feet leaving no indent or ripple in the surface of the lake. She stooped towards the floating object easily plucking it from the water. It was a sword. 

“You have Excalibur already,” she murmured inspecting the longsword in her hands. Arthur had no earthy idea how the sword had made its way down into the cavern but waved it off for the more pressing matter before him. He was wet and tired and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep himself above the surface. 

The lady passed the blade reverently to Arthur, hilt first. 

“Merlin is moving fast.”

“Merlin?” Arthur gasped. Inexplicably hope filled his chest as he glanced around the cavern for a glimpse of dishevelled black hair and blue eyes. 

“He is with you is he not?” asked the lady, a confused frown creased her smooth face as she glanced between the wet Arthur now treading water with one hand, and the gleaming sword in his clenched fist. 

“He… he was but…” Arthur trailed off. After everything that had happened he hadn’t had too much time to spend thinking about where Merlin was. The last Arthur saw of the man he was facing off against a smirking woman high up the mountain as rocks and lightening fell down around him. 

“Oh don’t fear for him young King,” the lady spoke, shaking her head. “He will be fine. He has endured all these years without you by his side; he wouldn’t leave when you are finally reunited.”

And then she took a step back, and another one, and Arthur realised that she was leaving. 

“Wait! How do I get out?” he shouted after her retreating form, his voice echoing back at him from the stone walls that encased him. 

“If you follow your heart you will find the way.”

Arthur growled, gripping his sword more firmly. “That is not helpful!”

“It is… if you listen.”

“Bloody riddles,” Arthur snorted. “Now I know why you and Merlin are friends!”

The lady’s figure retreated further disappearing into the shadows. “If you are ready then you will find your way.” The whisper of her voice carried to Arthur as if on the wind, whipping around him and reverberating off each wall of the cavern. 

And then Arthur was alone. 

He thrashed this way and that, trying to follow the last reverberating echoes of the lady’s parting voice as they bounced to him from every angle. But no matter which way he turned he saw the same thing: dark waters and stone surrounded him and try as he might he could not glimpse the escape that the lady had promised 

He was tired; his body ached in ways that he had never experienced. His mind wandered longingly to his simple life, the one that he had been perfectly content with until just a few short days ago when everything was turned on its head. How he wished he could be back before his fire with dinner cooking in the oven and his newspaper in hand. 

Arthur closed his eyes willing himself back there with all his heart, just like the lady had told him too. He wanted to go home to sleep in his bed and have a bath. But… he couldn’t. The gnawing worry in the back of his mind, one that he had tried to suppressed, grew. Where were Lance and Gwaine? Where was Leon? What had happened to Elyan and Percival? They had been gagged and bound alongside him in that cave. Had they too fallen? If so why weren’t they here? 

And Merlin? Arthur tore his eyes open. Where was Merlin? As much as the lady on the lake had told him not to worry he couldn’t help it. 

He needed to get out of here. He needed to find the rest of them and then attempt to get off the side of this bloody mountain. And then he could go home. 

A gurgling sound, almost like a plug being pulled drew Arthur from his worry. He looked down as the surface of the water that surrounded him, once a smooth surface like a mirror, began to gurgle and churn and swirl. The water crashed against Arthurs floating body twisting him around and around. With flailing arms Arthur struck out, trying to fight his way back to the edge, back to the walls of rock for some purchase but the water rushed around him, dragging him along the tide to the centre of the lake. 

A swirling whirlpool gasped open in the water face sucking everything toward it, including Arthur. Still he struggled uselessly against the growing pull. But his clothes and sword weighed him down and the water was just so strong. Within a blink he was there at the epicentre and then, before he could even think about taking a deep breath, he was sucked under.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey!” Arthur called, standing up from his hiding place. As one the men all turned to his voice. 
> 
> “Arthur!” Leon crowed, his surprised face morphing into a genuine smile. The smile quickly shrunk to frown as the man took in Arthur’s still sopping wet clothes and hair. “What happened to you?”
> 
> Arthur looked down at his body and opened his mouth to try and explain but his head hurt and even in his own mind the story sounded ridiculous. Instead he just shrugged tiredly. “It’s a long story.”

The water pushed at him from all directions as he was sucked downwards. His lungs burned and his eyes stung against the suffocating rush if water around him. Desperately he pulled his hands blindly through the water around him, trying to escape the swirling suction of the whirlpool or grab something for purchase but it was no use. He was powerless against the overwhelming force of water. 

As he was pulled and pushed through the water he thought he caught flashes of light, images that permeated through the darkness around him. Arthur was sure that he was hallucinating. That his oxygen starved mind was shutting down. But the images continued, too fast and too furious for Arthur to comprehend. 

The water and a loud roaring sound pushed against his skull and he couldn’t hold in a roar of pain, bubbles escaping from his mouth. He should have been preserving his breath but he couldn’t… it was too much. It felt as if the entire world was pushing in on him from every angle. That he was being squeezed through a too tight hole. That he was being pulverised and put back together all at once. 

And then, just when he thought he could take it no longer, it stopped. Bright light assaulted his eyes and the feeling of weightlessness increased, only to return with a thump as he hit the ground hard. Air rushed into his lungs as he gasped cool fresh air, his eyes clenched tight shut against the bright light, so piercing after so much time spent in darkness. 

Arthur’s hands clenched and fisted against the stony ground beneath him as he concentrated on breathing. Filling his lungs one painful gasp at a time. His mind was a jumble. The pictures, sounds and voices that had pierced his mind as he tumbled through the water assaulted him still. With a groan he lifted his hand to his head. It pounded with a heavy weight, as if his brain was trying to escape from his skull. 

With caution he slowly opened his eyes. The sandy stone ground he was on was dark and sludgy from the water still cascading down on it. Glancing up Arthur saw a remaining trickle of water coming from a small hole the rocky face next to him. It was deceptively small and if Arthur hadn’t just fallen from its mouth he would never have thought a man could have fit through it. 

With a huff Arthur let his arms go, dropping his aching, wet and dripping body to the hard ground. Pebbles poked in his back and dirt was no doubt clinging to every piece of his wet body that touched the ground but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Closing his eyes Arthur breathed and let his heart rate come back down to some semblance of normal even as his brain thumped behind his eyelids. 

Through the blood rushing in his ears and the pounding in his skull it took Arthur a moment to realise exactly what he was hearing. Voices. He could hear voices approaching. Arthur’s breaths stilled. They were getting closer. Quickly without much thought he threw himself behind a knurled tree stump, curling his limbs in tight to avoid detection. 

“We are down two men,” a man’s voice spoke. Percival. That was Percival’s voice. He could hear footsteps now too, big boots crunching over the gravelled ground. 

“We will head back up the mountain.” That was Lancelot’s voice now. “If Merlin is anywhere he’s likely to be there.”

So they had escaped too. Relief flooded through Arthur. Relief that they had made it out in one piece and that he didn’t have to run away… again. He gathered his wits and pulled his feet under his body to stand when his name being mentioned made him pause. 

“What about Arthur?” Elyan was asking. The sound of the group of walkers passed right behind Arthur’s hiding spot. As the group continued up towards the mountain face they came into Arthur’s view. Percival, Elyan, Leon, Lancelot and Gwaine were all there. No Merlin though. They were dirty for sure; each man’s face streaked with grime and sweat. But none looked too worse for wear. 

“Let the bloody princess sort himself out,” Gwaine snarled as he walked. ”We’ve been babysitting him this entire trip. A bit of the real world isn’t going to kill him.”

“That’s not really fair,” Leon said. 

“Why not?” Gwaine swirled to walk backwards giving Leon, and Arthur, a good look at his angry frown. “He disappeared from that cave without so much a glance back. He obviously doesn’t give a damn about us why should I give a damn about him?”

“We don’t know what happened in the cave,” Leon explained. “He just disappeared. He could still be back there.”

“He isn’t,” Percival said. The group had stopped walking now and grouped together on a particularly flat span of rock up ahead. “We checked all the bodies before we left. He wasn’t there.”

“He’s probably home in front of his cosy fire already,” Gwaine snorted, kicking at the loose rocks beneath his feet. 

With a huff he turned his back on the group and continued up the slope. One by one the men glanced at each other and then followed, their crunching footsteps leading away. Arthur stayed still behind his tree stump. He could stay here and let them walk away. They wouldn’t even know that he had been here. They obviously expected him to have turned tail and run already. But... 

“Hey!” Arthur called, standing up from his hiding place. As one the men all turned to his voice. 

“Arthur!” Leon crowed, his surprised face morphing into a genuine smile. The smile quickly shrunk to frown as the man took in Arthur’s still sopping wet clothes and hair. “What happened to you?”

Arthur looked down at his body and opened his mouth to try and explain but his head hurt and even in his own mind the story sounded ridiculous. Instead he just shrugged tiredly. “It’s a long story.”

Leon strode forward and engulfed Arthur in a quick hug. Arthur surprised even himself when he returned it, giving Leon a quick pat on the shoulder. 

“So how did you make it out?” he asked taking in Leon’s dishevelled look. 

“You getting thumped was a great distraction,” Elyan explained coming forward now too. “That was all that Percival needed to knock one of them out and grab his weapon. After that it was easy.”

“You’d know if you had stuck around,” Gwaine said, his voice low with restrained anger. 

“I had my own stuff to deal with,” Arthur retorted, his patience down to a slither. “And you seem to have done fine all on your own. Why did you need me there? All you would have to do is ‘babysit’ me right?” 

“Arthur he didn’t mean-“ Lancelot started but was cut off when Gwaine pushed past him. 

“We are supposed to be a team,” Gwaine hissed, striding forward until his nose was barely an inch from Arthur’s face. It took all Arthur had not to flinch away. “A team works together. A team doesn’t run at the first sign of danger leaving the rest of us to sort ourselves out.”

“What team?” Arthur huffed, throwing his arms out in disbelief. “I barely even know you!”

“There you all are!”

They all turned at the cheery voice which was such a contrast from the angry words being spoken. And there, stood on the crest of a rock above them was…

“Merlin!” cried Gwaine, all traces of anger wiped from his face as he beamed happily up at the returned figure. 

Merlin’s face was streaked with mud and a dark red substance that Arthur didn’t want to identify. He seemed to have lost his coat at some point and his flannel shirt was soiled and the breast pocket flopped half ripped away from the shirt and his hair was sat on his head in an even more impressive display of disarray than it had been when Arthur had seen him last. But his smile was easy and large. Arthur could almost see the relief pouring off him. 

“You can’t just run off on me like that,” Merlin huffed. He had a long wooden staff in his hand which he leaned on as he carefully picked his steps as he made his way down the steep slope to where they all stood. 

“You alright?” Lance asked worriedly, clasping the man on the shoulder. Merlin returned his embrace easily giving him a good pat on the back for good measure. 

“Of course, of course. Never better!” 

“Good,” Elyan huffed giving Merlin’s arm a friendly pat. “Can we get off this mountain now?”

Merlin looked around the group, no doubt taking in their various states of dishevelment before his eyes finally landed on Arthur’s wet and dripping form. 

“I feel as if you have all had your own adventures whilst I was away.”

“Ha!” Percival huffed with a smile. “Understatement of the year Merlin.”

“Well,” Merlin murmured with a fond smile, “I am glad. That was the point of this little venture of ours anyway wasn’t it? Now,” Merlin clapped his hands giving each man a good look, “onto the next part of our journey!”

Merlin grinned and swirled around away from the mountain and towards the rolling expanses of fields that could be seen beyond the rocky region. Arthur’s surge of relief at seeing the man whole and alive quickly dissipated. Even as Gwaine and Lance began to trundle good naturedly behind Merlin and Leon shared a hand shake with the man Arthur could do no more than look on with an open mouth. 

When it was clear that no one else was going to say anything, and that no one was paying him and his incredulity a moment’s notice Arthur strode forward, tripping slightly over the uneven ground. 

“Where the hell are we going now?” he cried out, wincing internally at the slight crack in his voice. 

Merlin turned to him, smiling indulgently. “Oh Arthur. We’ve only just begun! There are many more adventures to be had now-“

“No,” Arthur spat out shaking his head. “No this is ridiculous!”

“Oh come on,” Gwaine huffed as if *Arthur* were the one being completely unreasonable. 

“No, I am finished!” Arthur shouted, his voice coming out unfortunately high and squeaky. “I have been chased, I have been captured, and I’ve been half drowned by a crazy woman. I am tired and wet and cold and now I want to go home.”

Merlin’s face creased in worry and something else that Arthur couldn’t identify. He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off when Gwaine slotted into their eye line. 

“You know what princess,” he snarled, placing a restraining hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “No one asked you to come with us.”

Arthur let out a bark of a laugh and stared incredulously at Gwaine, his eyes wide with maddening anger. “Yes they did!” he yelled, his hands flailing wildly. “It was him!” Pointing harshly at Merlin. 

“Well,” Gwaine muttered looking to Merlin and back, then shrugging. “No one forced you to come. You could have turned around at any point!”

“And get lost in the sprawling wilderness this idiot has gotten us lost in? I don’t think so.”

“Now wait just a minute-” Lancelot interjected sternly coming to stand next to Gwaine. 

Arthur snorted, inexplicably feeling a stab of betrayal as Gwaine and Lancelot stood either side of Merlin, against Arthur. “Oh so you’re jumping to his defence too now I see.”

“Merlin hasn’t done anything to you,” Lancelot spoke plainly, a hint of a reproach in his voice. “You need to calm down.”

“Calm down?” Arthur screeched. “We are in the middle of nowhere, all our stuff is missing, I’m carrying a bloody sword and the idiot has no idea where we are! God I can’t”, Arthur muttered, pressing a hand to his aching head that had been pounding progressively harder with each passing moment. “I just need to get out of here, you are all making my brain ache.”

“Shush, guys,” Merlin mumbled who had been uncharacteristically silent in the intervening shouting match. 

“Merlin don’t worry. We will deal with this prat,” Percival muttered, cracking his knuckles. Arthur just snorted. 

“No guys, there is something coming.” Everyone turned to stare at the man at the odd waver in his voice. Merlin’s eyes were wide with worry as he looked at them all. “Wyvren, lots of them.”

“From where?” Lancelot asked quickly, coming to stand by Merlin’s side. 

“The east… and the west. They are heading straight here.” Merlin turned, his wide blue eyes sending a fissure of unease through Arthur’s body. “We need to run.”

It was as if ‘run’ was a magic word designed to get this gaggle of men mobilised. As soon as the words had left Merlin’s mouth the men that surrounded him grabbed any discarded weapons from the ground and started hustling across the rocky terrain. The scuffling sound of their hurried footsteps echoed off the ground and pinged painfully against Arthur’s aching head. 

“No!” Arthur whined, exhaustion pulling at his limbs. “No more running!” 

“We need to go Arthur,” Merlin snapped, grabbing the man by the arm. A loud screech echoed out over the fields. “Now!”

With a deep breath Arthur let himself be dragged along by the arm as he and Merlin stumbled side by side across the rocky ground to catch up with the huddle of men rushing away. Another screech pierced through Arthur’s head, louder and closer and more menacing this time. Pushing his feet faster Arthur jogged, keeping time with Leon as they ran. 

Every now and then he glanced over his shoulder but he could see nothing. He could hear something though; a flapping of wings and a screeching on the horizon. Whatever was chasing them was closing in faster than their earth bound legs could carry them. 

Arthur didn’t realise that Merlin had still been holding his arm until he wasn’t anymore and Arthur stumbled as the weight of the other man left his side. 

He turned to see Merlin stood still behind them all staring up at the sky. 

“Lancelot!” Merlin called, his shoulders straightening as he adjusted his grip on the wooden staff in his hands. “Take them East!”

“Oh no chance Merlin,” Gwaine interjected pushing past Arthur to stand at Merlin’s side. “Last time we left you behind we lost you for a day. We are sticking with you.”

Merlin threw a wide eyed look at Arthur then back to the approaching spots on the horizon

“Gwaine-“

“No he’s right,” Lancelot stated striding forward with his sword in hand. “Together.”

Rather than looking calmed and pleased by the men’s show of devotion Merlin grit his jaw in frustration. “There’s no time for this they’re coming. I need you to get Arthur to safety.”

“The princess can look after himself for once,” Gwaine said. His sword too was now in his hands as his eyes scanned the skylines. 

“Hate to interrupt but they’re here!” 

Everyone’s head spun at Elyan’s nervous shout to where the man was staring up into the sky. For a moment Arthur couldn’t see what he was staring at. All Arthur could see was blue sky scattered with clouds. But that big grey cloud was moving awfully fast. Was this another storm approaching? Arthur blamed his still aching head and exhaustion for the ridiculous amount of time it took for him to realise that wasn’t a cloud. It was a flock. And it was coming towards them fast. 

“What’s the plan?” Gwaine’s panicked shout brought Arthur back down to ground level. 

Everyone twisted to look at Merlin who was inexplicably looking at Arthur, waiting. 

“What the hell are you looking at me for?!” Arthur screamed, panic and fear whirring through his already pounding skull. 

A large shadow passed over Merlin’s expression but it was gone too quickly for Arthur to identify. Merlin quickly and visibly gathered himself, glancing at the men around him. 

“Right,” he mumbled before swallowing. “Right. Pull in tight!” 

Quickly the group gathered around, Merlin as their epicentre. 

“Stick together,” the man was saying as each of them steadied their feet. Arthur adjusted his grip on the ancient sword in his hand watching the sky. The dark cloud was gaining ground and took shape. Arthur saw wings spread out beside each speck like a dragon and heard another ear splitting screech. That sound triggered a fear deep within Arthur’s bones, like he had heard it before and knew the terror it brought. But the time had gone for Arthur to run. It was too late now he knew. He swallowed and grit his jaw, trying with all his might to swallow down the panic attempting to engulf him with each flap of the approaching wings. 

“Wyverns are strong but not very clever,” Merlin was continuing; his body a sure and steady presence at Arthur’s back. “Stay together. You won’t be able to fight them from the sky so put them off enough that they have to land. Then they’re more vulnerable. And remember… their heart is on the right.”

And then they were upon them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin stood wavering on the spot where he had been struck. His hand gripped at his chest as red viscous fluid poured from beneath his pale fingers shock painting his face. Slowly the man pulled his hand away, staring with curiosity at the thick red coating his fingers. And then, just as slowly Merlin looked up and across the battle field straight at Arthur. When their eyes locked Merlin let out a small puff of laughter. And then crumpled to the floor. 
> 
> The fight battled on around him as the Wyverns came in from every angle but Arthur stood still, staring at the still body of the man on the floor, blood seeping into the rocked floor around him. 
> 
> …and then he remembered.

There were no words that could describe the unspeakable terror that coursed through Arthur’s veins as the winged beasts came down at them. The seemed to all descend as one; their scaly bodies swooped graceful overhead snapping their jaws viciously and screeching. 

The tight group the men seemed to have created dispersed almost as one as the creatures swopped won low, sending each man lunging off to the side in an effort to escape the snarling teeth. 

As another beast swooped forward Arthur felt himself being pushed to the ground and he hit it hard, the rough pebbled ground scraping across his palms and sending jars of pain through his knees. It was Gwaine he realised as the man rolled off Arthur’s body and swiftly to his feet in one motion. 

Arthur could barely move as the fear clotted his limbs. Around him each man was fighting, shouting and screaming as the beasts came down at them relentlessly. He watched as Percival was thrown to the side, his axe flying from his flailing hands as a Wyvern bore down at him. With the beasts jaws wide and ready to strike Percival struck out with his big booted foot, catching the creature in the chest and flinging it back into another approaching lizard. They screeched in pain as they collided snarling at each other, distracted long enough for Elyan to pull Percival back to standing. 

Arthur’s sigh of relief was short lived as a screech sounded too close to his ear. With a jolt he scurried to standing, dragging his metal sword in front of him, trying to recreate the easy countenance that Lancelot seemed to be wielding. The Wyvern before him raised its hackles and hissed as if waiting for Arthur to make a move. But Arthur couldn’t move. With a snap of its jaws the creature jumped forward. Reflexively Arthur swung his sword with two hands. He didn’t hit anything but the beast dodged back out of the arc of the blade. 

Feeling confidence build Arthur took another swing, this time stepping forward following the creature in its small retreat. This time the blade did make impact as it caught the end of the creature’s snout. With a screech of pain the beast spread its wings and swirled up into the sky, shaking its head to rid it of the pain. 

Arthur grinned up at the sky following the Wyvern’s retreat. 

“Arthur!”

The shout of his name made Arthur swirl around, his sword swinging before him in an arch. He turned just in time to see another Wyvern bearing down on him, its wings spread and reptilian mouth open in a snarl. It was heading straight for him and Arthur barley had a moment to panic before a searing heat streaked across his vision and something bright hit the beast from the side slamming it to the floor with a sickening crunch. 

Arthur swung his head to the side tracking the source of the power. Off to the side of the battle ground stood Merlin, his hand outstretched before him to where the beast lay unmoving on the floor by Arthur’s feet. Slowly the man’s eyes rose to meet Arthur’s, a strange look seeped into the big blue eyes and it took Arthur a moment to realise that it was fear. 

Arthur frowned in confusion; what had Merlin done that had brought down the beast and why was he looking at Arthur with something akin to panic? 

Another screech broke Arthur from his contemplation. Another Wyvern was soaring towards them, straight to the man who took down its brother. Straight for Merlin. And the idiot was too busy staring at Arthur to notice. 

“Merlin!” Arthur cried, the name tearing itself from his throat in a painful roar. But it was too late. 

Arthur felt as if the world slowed as he watched. The Wyvern screeched once more and Merlin turned, his eyes widening. He lifted his wooden staff up to swing at the creature but he was too slow. The beast flapped its wings drawing up at the last second pulling its legs up. The massive clawed feet struck out, hitting Merlin straight in the chest. 

The man let out a pained gasp as one of the creatures large talons pierced through his chest. As lightning fast as it had struck the beast pulled up and away leaving its destruction in its wake. 

Distantly Arthur heard a heart breaking scream of denial. In the recesses of his mind he registered it as coming from Lancelot but Arthur couldn’t look, couldn’t turn his eyes away. 

Merlin stood wavering on the spot where he had been struck. His hand gripped at his chest as red viscous fluid poured from beneath his pale fingers shock painting his face. Slowly the man pulled his hand away, staring with curiosity at the thick red coating his fingers. And then, just as slowly Merlin looked up and across the battle field straight at Arthur. When their eyes locked Merlin let out a small puff of laughter. And then crumpled to the floor. 

The fight battled on around him as the Wyverns came in from every angle but Arthur stood still, staring at the still body of the man on the floor, blood seeping into the rocked floor around him. 

…and then he remembered. 

*

‘Remembered’ was such a terrible way to try and explain the soaring knowledge that suddenly swelled inside Arthur’s mind, as if from behind a dam. Memories, thoughts, feelings broke free from behind a wall and rushed through his very being. Arthur felt it fill him, every crevice and gap until he felt as if he would burst. 

He was in a million places all at once and nowhere all at the same time. Suspended in a world of memory and light. And throughout it all he saw Merlin. Merlin laughing, Merlin frowning, Merlin shouting at him when no one else dared. Merlin crying over him. Merlin bleeding… 

… Merlin was bleeding. 

With a gasp Arthur wrenched himself back to the present. His head still swam in the murky waters of history but he didn’t have the luxury to bathe in it right now. Painfully he clawed his consciousness back to now, letting the sights before his eyes to burn out the overlapping memories threatening to overwhelm him. 

His mind was slammed back into place when a Wyvern snapped its sharp teeth in his face. Instinct kicked in and he dodged back, twisting his body with practiced ease away from the snarling creature. Behind the snapping beast Arthur could still see Merlin’s body in the same place he had fallen. The puddle of blood beneath his skinny body was growing still, staining the rocky ground. 

Arthur heard a voice in his head, crossing across the distance of time and history to whisper in his ear, filling him with wisdom and strength. “Remember the heart is on the right.” 

With a roar Arthur swung his sword, slicing the creature before him in two. Just as quickly a new beast came at him from the left and he swung once more slicing its wing from its body. It hit the ground with a screech but Arthur paid it no mind and strode forward. 

He glanced around him seeing his men scattered throughout the space battling as fiercely as they could but it would do no good. The creatures kept coming and snapped at them from the skies. They needed to get them down on the ground where they could fight on equal footing. 

“Knights!” he called, his voice sure and steeped in authority. “To me!” 

Without question the men gathered in back to back. Now that they were collected as one target the beasts couldn’t all swarm down on them at once. One tried and was batted out of the air by Percival’s axe. Elyan’s sword swiftly finished the job piercing the beast through the right of its chest. 

The Wyverns swirled overhead, not daring to get any closer to the piercing weapons the men below them wielded. With a screech of frustration one of the creatures landed with a thud. Arthur set his feet and poised Excalibur in front of him staring down the beast. With a snarl Arthur jabbed forward with his sword just missing the creature’s scaly side as it flinched away. Quickly Arthur pulled back, resetting himself before he jabbed forward again. This time his sword found purchase slicing through the Wyvern’s shoulder. 

With triumph in his heart Arthur pulled back but it was short lived as the beast screeched in pain and anger but didn’t fall. It lunged messily at Arthur, its sharp teeth snapping. Intuitively Arthur ducked and lunged thrusting his sword upwards. As the beast tumbled forward, the weight of its body carrying it forward Excalibur found its target piercing right through the right side of the scaly chest. 

The creature’s screech cut off abruptly and Arthur had to roll quickly to escape the full weight of the Wyvren’s dead body as it slumped to the ground. Quickly Arthur straightened, looking around for his next target only to see a battle ground of dead Wyvren’s on the floor and his men tightly bunched together, their eyes on the sky. 

“They’re going!” Percival called. 

Arthur looked up to see the remaining beasts flapping their wings in retreat. What was left of the flock began to fly away, back to the looming shadow of the mountain in the distance. 

“It’s over!” Leon exclaimed in a grateful whisper but Arthur paid him no attention. As soon as the last beast became just a speck on the horizon he ran, drawn to the edge of the battle field like a magnet.

“Merlin,” Arthur gasped as he skidded to his knees beside the fallen man, Excalibur discarded to the side. With urgent hands he reached out, half pulling the man into his lap. He looked down at the blood now seeping through Merlin’s flannel shirt. Too much blood. “Gods, Merlin you idiot!”

The man’s blue eyes cracked open and when he saw Arthur his pale face broke into a smile. 

“I told you it would come to you,” Merlin said weakly, his grin quickly turning into a grimace as he tried to move. 

“Merlin, shut up,” Arthur snapped, panic racing through his chest. “Percival!” he called. 

“Got it Arthur.”

The large man strode quickly over. Arthur’s vision stuttered. A different memory of Percival in sleeveless chainmail and a sweeping red cloak overlaid on the present but Arthur blinked it away, needing to stay alert. 

“Take him,” Arthur commanded allowing Percival to pick up Merlin’s bleeding form from his lap. “We need to get him to help quickly.”

“Which way Arthur?” asked Elyan.

Arthur looked to the East, then to the West, seeing no roads or structures or any hope of help. He floundered, feeling the sticky residue of Merlin’s blood coating his hands. 

“That way,” Merlin’s voice rasped, a bloody hand pointing to a rocky crest just ahead. 

Arthur gave the man a withering look, a look to remind Merlin that he had clearly instructed him to shut up just a moment ago, but as usual the man never listened. Following Merlin’s pointed finger Arthur strode to the rocky overhang, staring down to the rolling hills beyond. 

When Arthur looked over the crest at the familiar countryside below them he felt frustration bubbling up through his veins. He turned his glare back onto the bleeding man cradled in Percival’s thick arms.   
“All this time, we were only up the mountain from my cottage!”

Merlin seemed to shrug. Even through his greying face Arthur could see the insolent look he was so familiar with. “I’m old, you can’t expect me to travel that far now can you.”

Arthur just growled and opened his mouth to respond but Merlin’s grin was wavering and he could see the pain etched on the warlock’s face. Later, he thought to himself, he could berate the man for this idiotic quest through the wilderness later. 

“Quickly,” he said to his knights before him. “We need to get him back to the cottage and treated before the idiot bleeds to death.”

“Take it easy Perce,” Merlin gasped as the man began quickly striding forward, “no need to rush.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s obviously senile,” Arthur called over his shoulder as he led the way down the hill back to the warmth and safety of his home. 

“It is nothing a little rest can’t cure.”

“Merlin, you were impaled!”

“Ah,” Merlin waved a limp, blood covered hand before him as if swatting away a fly. “I’ve had worse.”

Arthur gallantly held his tongue, grinding his teeth together. Soon the welcoming site of his home came within touching distance and he pushed his small garden gate open ushering Percival in before him. 

“Get him inside,” he instructed. 

Arthur watched as Percival hurried to his front door, quickly followed by the rest of the knights their faces various shades of worry. His front door swung magically open as the large man approached and they all barrelled inside. 

He was going to follow, he really was, but he suddenly felt exhausted. With leaded legs he stumbled forward and planted himself heavily on his bench. The dizzy feeling that had accompanied the resurgence of his memories had never really left him; it had just been squashed by dread and panic. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back up towards the light sky and breathed. 

Even though his heart clenched and his body reacted to the sight of his oldest friend cut down and bleeding he knew somewhere deep inside him that Merlin would be OK. He seemed to have survived all these years without a scratch on him, a few more minutes wouldn’t harm him. 

He took a deep breath and let his mind go, his new memories and old ones and current ones all rushing forward and slotting into place within his mind. 

“Arthur.” Leon’s voice broke him from his reverie. Arthur spared him a glance as he walked up the garden path towards him. 

“He is by far the most incompetent, infuriating being I have ever come across,” Arthur grumbled closing his eyes again, “and Morgana is still my sister.”

“Arthur,” Leon spoke plainly again. This time Arthur opened his eyes properly to look at the man. Leon offered him a warm smile and reached out his arm to Arthur. “Welcome back.”

Arthur couldn’t help but return the man’s smile and reached out his own arm to clasp Leon’s forearm.   
“Thank you,” he nodded. “I am glad to see you all… properly. When did you….” Arthur trailed off, not quite knowing how to properly phrase the question. But as usual Leon read Arthur perfectly. 

“A second after you. I think Gwaine and Lancelot have known for a while.”

Arthur nodded and a small fond smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. “They always were Merlin’s men first.”

“They are with him now,” Leon said joining Arthur sat on the bench. “Gwaine is refusing to leave until he wakes and calls you a prat.”

The silence stretched out between them for a while, old and familiar as they stared out into the green and countryside around them. Arthur had often wondered why he felt most at peace in the sprawling country dales than in any of the cities that he had lived in. But as he looked out over the endless greenery around him it looked so much like home - his true home of Camelot - that he didn’t have to wonder anymore. 

“How is he?” Arthur asked after a while. 

“Fine.”

Arthur shot Leon a questioning look, silently asking him to please elaborate. Leon just shrugged looking as bewildered as he always had when it came to anything pertaining to Merlin. 

“Really,” he said. “The wound is gone, his colour is back. No fever. And he started snoring a few minutes ago so I think he will be up very soon.”

All Arthur could do was shake his head. Trust Merlin of all people to be run through and survive with not a mark on him. 

“So,” Arthur drawled quirking an eyebrow in Leon’s direction. “Assets Manager?”

Leon scoffed. “What can I say? It is steady, good work. Practically recession proof,” he added knowingly at the end. 

Arthur laughed and patted the man’s shoulder jovially. “You always were the sensible one Leon.”

“Yeah,” the man sighed. Arthur felt the man’s shoulder rise and fall beside him with the breath. “I don’t know if I will be able to go back to that now…. After this.” 

“I know the feeling,” Arthur said thinking back on all his mundane worries that a few days ago had consumed his world and now felt so meaningless in the face of his new knowledge. Quickly he battered down his own worries and offered Leon a confident smile. “Don’t worry Sir Leon we will figure something out. For us all.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin was laid out on the small wooden bed in Arthur’s spare room. Pale, skinny but alive and awake. A small battered book was held lightly in one of his hands, his eyes scanning the pages back and forth as he read. 
> 
> “You’re an idiot,” Arthur said from the doorway.

Arthur stayed out on his bench until the sun started to dip towards the horizon. Leon had left him to his own mind a while ago. With a deep breath Arthur look around his small country garden with a growing sadness. This life he had was over now. Even if he stayed here this new knowledge of who he was and what he was supposed to do would never leave him. He closed his eyes and rolled his neck, already feeling the burden of the country starting to weigh down on him. 

Throughout Arthur’s many years (in this lifetime) there had always been a nagging tickle of something at the back of his consciousness. Something that had felt wrong, different, off centre. It had made him nervous, it had made him feel different and disconnected from everyone around him. Every turn and decision he had made had been lacking… something. Like a piece of his mind or soul was missing. 

Because something had been missing. 

Standing abruptly Arthur strode into the cottage. As soon as he pushed open his wooden front door he heard the raucous sounds of his knights enjoying themselves in his kitchen, no doubt raiding his parlour for any remaining food they didn’t pillage the last time they were here. 

Arthur smiled fondly at the thought but he didn’t make his way towards them. Instead he strode towards the staircase, taking the smooth timber stair treads two at a time. The first door on the landing was ajar revealing the foot of a small timber bed stead. He pushed the door open gently, not wishing to disturb its occupant. Slowly the room came into view and he paused.

Merlin was laid out on the small wooden bed in Arthur’s spare room. Pale, skinny but alive and awake. A small battered book was held lightly in one of his hands, his eyes scanning the pages back and forth as he read. 

“You’re an idiot,” Arthur said from the doorway. Merlin’s head swivelled towards him. The battered book was dropped and laid forgotten on the blankets. 

“Arthur!” Merlin called, his smile as blinding and gormless as it always was. “You’re back!”

Arthur snorted, pushing of the doorway and taking the empty chair by Merlin’s bed. He leant back in the wooden frame, giving his friend a surreptitious look over. He still looked paler than normal, and very tired, and held himself in a way that told Arthur he was in some pain. But he was staring at Arthur with such unshielded happiness that Arthur couldn’t help but offer him a little smile. 

“You’re still an idiot,” he grunted crossing his arms. 

Merlin just shrugged, settling back down into his pillow. “You told me never to change.”

“Weren’t there more straightforward ways of bringing back my memories?”

“You needed to believe in yourself first,” Merlin said with a shrug. “You needed to become the leader you were born to be. Then the memories would come. And they did!”

“No, they came when I thought… when I had to…” Arthur broke off, unable to explain to the man laying before him the abject feeling of terror he felt at seeing his friend laid out on the ground, seeing the blood. Unable to explain the explosion he had felt in his own mind at the sight and the memories that pushed forward from behind a wall, flooding his conscious with a need to protect, a need to save. Instead he closed his mouth and shook his head ruefully. “Gods Merlin, only you.”

“I am one of a kind,” the man smiled. 

“You’re a pain in the arse,” Arthur countered. “Now sleep. The knights have been worried sick.”

“You’ve left them unsupervised?” Merlin asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“They’re grown men they can-“ Arthur was cut off by the sound of a plate smashing from the kitchen downstairs. 

“You sure?” Merlin chuckled. 

“By the Gods that better not be my china,” Arthur muttered peering over his shoulder at the open doorway. He was torn between leaving Merlin alone and the thought of his men loose and unsupervised in his kitchen. At the sound of a second smash he unconsciously got to his feet. 

“You’d better go see to that your highness,” Merlin chuckled, his eyes closing.

*

Merlin lay still for a while, just letting the sounds of the knights laughing and Arthur shouting wash over his exhausted mind and body. 

No matter how many times he had to do this over the centuries it never became any easier. And this part, when everyone remembered and he had his friends around him… well that never became any less magical. 

“So your plan worked.”

Merlin cracked open his eyes to see Lancelot stood at the end of his bed. The man’s arms were crossed over his chest and he looked down on Merlin with that familiar look of amusement mixed with admiration. 

“It seems that way,” Merlin offered the man with a smile. He nodded his head to the chair Arthur had vacated in an invitation to sit which Lancelot accepted. 

“Everyone has their memories back, even Arthur,” Lancelot said, leaning forward in his chair. “What now?”

“You know what,” Merlin murmured letting his magic seep through his veins and out into the world. “I’m not sure.”

“Are you telling me that the great Emrys has lost his sight?” Lancelot teased. 

“I only see what I need to see,” Merlin shrugged. ”Right now the future is uncertain. But we are all here. All together. We will be ready whatever comes.”

“Then you had better get some rest whilst you can,” Gwaine said from the doorway. Merlin looked up and grinned at his old friend. He had a jug of beer in one hand and a chicken leg in the other. “’Cause this is the only spare bed in this place. I’ll be turfing you out soon to get my own shut eye.”

Lancelot rolled his eyes at the man. “We are not all staying here Gwaine.”

“Of course we are,” Merlin argued, his heart leaping at the thought that after all these years of waiting they would be leaving each other so soon. “We will all stay here. Just until we know what we have to do.”

“This is a two bedroom cottage and we are six fully grown men,” Lancelot said, reason and clarity soaked in every one of his words but Merlin had never really adhered to either of those traits. 

As usual he didn’t put much thought into it. His magic was so much a part of him, a part of his heart that it read what he wanted and before he could even formulate a spell to fall from his lips he felt the rushing of ancient power through his veins. The little cottage shook slightly, plaster and dust skittered down from the ceiling onto Merlin’s bedsheets but he didn’t mind. He just grinned at the wary looks Gwaine and Lancelot were shooting him. 

Merlin just shrugged. “Bed situation is sorted now.“

“Merlin!” a voice shouted from out in the hallway. That was Arthur’s angry voice. The one he used when Merlin brought him a chunk of bread and a single grape for breakfast. Soon enough the golden head of the King of Camelot appeared around the edge of the doorway. “Did you… did you just remodel my house?!”

Merlin tried his best to sink into the bed hoping his countenance exuded an air of pathetic injured servant rather than powerful ancient being. “No,” he mumbled sheepishly. “Just some… minor adjustments.”

“Guys,” Elyan’s excited face poked in between Gwaine and Arthur in the doorway, “it’s like the Tardis in here!” 

In the face of Arthur’s glare Merlin just laughed. The first full deep bellied laugh he had been able to muster in the years since Arthur’s last death. 

It was to the sound of Percival and Elyan arguing over their room choice, and Arthur shouting at Gwaine to get out of his bed that Merlin closed his eyes again, letting some well-deserved sleep take over his ancient and tired body. 

Right now he didn’t know what the future was going to bring. He didn’t know why Arthur and his friends had been brought back again. But he didn’t care too much. What mattered was that they were back. That he wasn’t alone anymore. And it may only be for a short time, a blink of an eye in the span of Merlin’s life, but they were all here and would face whatever was to come as one. 

Together.


End file.
